My Little Katie
by Xandra
Summary: This story contains adult language, yaoi and a little-known love-triangle involving a Latin acrobat, a bitchy blonde and a stressed-out aristocrat, with one hitch in the middle...a little girl named Katherine Winner. Read, enjoy, and no flaming me. [4up!]
1. Prologue

Xandra: Dorothy lovers beware, I HATE that bitch with a passion, and I came up with this idea in my sleep, so I thought I'd work it into a new fic. This story contains adult language, yaoi and a soon to be classic love- triangle involving a Latin acrobat, a bitchy blonde and a stressed-out aristocrat, with one hitch in the middle...a little girl named Katherine Winner. Read, enjoy, and no flaming me.  
  
[\\Flashback\\]  
  
//thoughts//  
  
EMPHASIS  
  
*MORE EMPHASIS*  
  
~ Switching POV to someone else  
  
**time elapsed (hours, days)**  
  
**** more time elapsed (months) ****  
  
****  
  
My Little Katie  
  
By Xandra  
  
Prologue  
  
****  
  
March 10, AC 198--8:49pm...  
  
  
  
"Dorothy, I don't know if I should--"  
  
"Oh, come on, Quatre. It isn't going to hurt you to come inside for a minute, is it?"  
  
He sighed. Well, she had asked him out, and he had no choice but to be courteous and spend just a little more time with her. Certainly, he didn't exactly like Dorothy like that, but he didn't hate her either, and he hated seeing a woman cry, or making one feel bad, so he was obliging her with a date. Now that they were back to her penthouse, Quatre had been more than ready to drop her off and go home, but she had insisted he come in for a while, because it was cold, which was true. What was the harm of humoring her JUST a bit more? With a shake of his head, he allowed her to cart him inside by his arm. "All right," he sighed. "I'll stay for a little bit, but I have a lot of work to do tomorrow, so I can't be too long, okay?"  
  
She nodded, beaming up at him, and he smiled despite himself. As long as he didn't hurt anyone, he was okay with whatever went on.  
  
He allowed himself to be sat on a large, overstuffed couch in her overdone living room. The couch was eggplant purple with black pillows, and the carpet was bright cerulean, with lava lamps of all colors decorating the corners, and strangely shapes chairs here and there. Well, she was odd, but at least she was expressive! He stared around at all of the odd colors decorating the inner side of the penthouse as she milled about here and there, busying herself with something. //Wow, I'm getting dizzy!// he thought as his eyes fell across a surreal painting on the wall across from him. He went cross-eyed. "Um..." he said, trying to straighten his vision. "I, uh...like your house, Dorothy. Very...creative."  
  
"Thank you!" she called out to him. She was in the kitchen, he assumed, though he wasn't sure. Would she tile another room of her house without a good reason? It was possible with her taste! Why on earth did she like him if she loved things to be showy and extravagant? He was dull compared to just her living room! "I decorated it myself! I always liked colors."  
  
//Maybe my shirt is what got her,// he thought, wryly. For once, he wasn't wearing a pink shirt, NOW anyway. She had insisted they go to a movie, so he had done his best to be informal, but that hadn't really worked, so he had been forced to ask Duo for dressing tips. That had ended in a disaster, and Heero had been forced to redress him. Three hours at their house had not been his ideal afternoon! Now he was dressed in well-fitting jeans and an unbuttoned dress-shirt with a tank top under it, and that was about as close as he had come to acceptable.  
  
What was she doing in there anyway?  
  
~  
  
Dorothy smirked as she watched him from her kitchen. He was so cute...and soon he'd belong to her. She had been planning this for a long time, working it out carefully so her plan couldn't fail. She knew him well enough to know that it couldn't fail. Quatre was a man bound by honor, unlike most of the pigs that called themselves men nowadays, and that meant that any mistake he made--or THOUGHT he made--he had to compensate for instantly or risk eternal damnation in his own mind. She knew this well, and she was going to use it against him.  
  
She checked the test results, then nodded. It had to be tonight, or it wouldn't work, and she might only have this one chance if she messed up. Drugging him, after all, would only work so many times before he realized something. That was why she had to do it right the first time.  
  
"Are you thirsty, Quatre?" she called to him, innocently.  
  
"Um...not really, but..."  
  
"Oh, but I just made some lemonade for you..."  
  
"Oh...well...I guess I'm thirsty, then...okay, sure."  
  
She smirked to herself. His kindness would be her godsend and his condemnation. With a smile, she hastily pulled a little bottle from her pocket and inspected it, then picked up the glass of lemonade and popped the top, shaking a pill into her hand. She set it on the counter, then picked up her cookbook and dropped it with a thud on it, crushing it.  
  
"Dorothy? What was that?"  
  
She shrugged, innocently smiling as she peeked out at him. "Oops. I knocked my cookbook over. I'm so clumsy sometimes!"  
  
He offered her an uncertain smile and looked away, and she knew why. He was uncomfortable around her, especially when they were alone, and the reason for that was as clear the blue in his eyes--he was gay. Dorothy had figured it out a long time ago, and it had been almost devastating, knowing that her chances with Quatre after that tiny mishap with the rapier after their fencing bout had gone from fifty percent to zero. However, she not only knew that he was gay, but that he was homophobic, or he was afraid to SHOW that he was gay, and afraid to admit it openly. He was a closet case!  
  
To add insult to injury, she had easily deduced who he had his eye on, too. It was that lowlife, Trowa Barton, the one that had saved his life and her own on Libra before it had gone up. That didn't matter, though--as far as she was concerned, all was fair in love and war, and if Quatre wasn't going to confess to that creep, he was open game. Besides, it wasn't like Barton had made any moves himself, even though it was OBVIOUS he was gay too. This was why she was getting to Quatre now--she didn't want to give him the chance to tell the clown how he felt, or else she'd never get what she wanted from him.  
  
She brushed the powdered pill into the lemonade, then stirred it with a pink straw and shook a little sugar in to hide the extra flavor. She had ordered these pills especially from the scientists that had worked for her grandfather, so she knew they would come through for her. Those people were insane geniuses, all of them, and they were all on her side.  
  
With a sigh, she brought two glasses of lemonade out and set them on the little glass table in front of the couch that Quatre was sitting on, instantly snatching the undoctored one for herself and giving him an innocent smile. "I hope you like it," she said, batting her eyelashes at him.  
  
Quatre once again tried to smile, but it came off as awkward as the first one had, and the one prior to it. He had been smiling like that all night. Well, she wouldn't have to worry about it in about thirty seconds. He took the glass from the table, then carefully sipped from it.  
  
Dorothy watched him intently. //Just a few seconds and he'll be mine...before he even knows it!// "Well?"  
  
"Um...it's good?"  
  
She beamed. //Now all I have to do is wait.// "Do you like my painting there?" she asked, indicating the surreal painting she had bought just last week. It was dizzying, which was the point, and sometimes, it made people pass out. It was so amusing!  
  
He looked. "Oh, yeah...it's sort of...well, what is it?"  
  
"Oh, you can't tell?"  
  
"Um, no, wait, I know..."  
  
She grinned. No he didn't, and he wouldn't be able to guess either. "What is it, then?"  
  
"Um...a...drowning cat?"  
  
She laughed and he blushed. Oh yes, she was going to enjoy being married to him. "No, silly."  
  
Suddenly, he looked a little less wary and he wobbled. "Oh, that's strange...is the room...moving...?"  
  
"Now what gives you that idea?" she asked, snidely. //Three, two. one.//  
  
THUD. He was out cold, just like that. He had fainted, thanks to the sedative, but that was only half of what the pills did, actually. It would take only a few more moments for the rest to kick in.  
  
It did, and she grinned, then grabbed his legs and pulled him up into a lying position, adjusting her own position. "Well, well, the Winner heir has more to be proud of than he lets on. Ah well. Don't worry, Quatre. This won't hurt at all...well, it will later, when you realize 'what you'll have done.'"  
  
**** **** ~  
  
June 24, AC 198--11:13am...  
  
  
  
"WHAT? But I don't remember--!"  
  
"I hate you!" Dorothy shouted into his ear. "You lying bastard!"  
  
He had to hold the phone back to keep from going deaf. He just didn't want to believe it! He looked down at the caller ID again. It read: LEVITICAN GENERAL HOSPITAL. //This can't be happening...this can't be happening...why would I hurt her?// "Dorothy, calm down, PLEASE. Now, what are you trying to accuse me of? I don't understand why you're so angry!"  
  
"HAVEN'T YOU BEEN LISTENING TO ME?!" she shrieked in his ear, hysterically. "I'm PREGNANT! I'll SUE you for all you have, Quatre Raberba Winner! You raped me and now I'm pregnant with YOUR child, and I HATE YOU!"  
  
He gasped, falling out of his chair. His assistant looked at him as he lay on the floor, the phone clutched in his fist. //No...nonononono...// He stared up at the ceiling, not believing his ears. He hadn't seen Dorothy since she had dragged him out on a date a few months ago, and he KNEW that he hadn't hurt her in any way! He had just sort of sat there with her for a few minutes, then...  
  
Then what? Why couldn't he remember? He remembered getting there, sitting with her, and driving back, but there was a big blank spot...  
  
"H-how do you know it's mine?" he asked, weakly.  
  
"They ran a DNA test and told me YOU'RE the father, you asshole!" she shouted. "Besides, I've never slept with another man, and I wouldn't have slept with YOU had you not forced yourself on me!" She was crying now, and his mind was immediately ripped back to the subject at hand.  
  
Whatever the case, she was pregnant, and it was his fault. Why couldn't he remember?  
  
"You've ruined my life, and I hope you're proud..."  
  
"I want the test results," he said, suddenly.  
  
She gasped. "You ARE a bastard, aren't you?!"  
  
No, he wasn't. He just wanted SOME way to prove that he was innocent, or guilty. He couldn't just take her word for it! He didn't want to believe it! "Have the hospital fax them to me, Dorothy." He looked at his assistant, who was still staring. "Lawrence, please, go tell Jenny to be ready for a fax."  
  
The young man adjusted his huge glasses, then bowed. "Yes, Mr. Winner." He turned to hurry away.  
  
He put a hand over the receiver. "And get Duo on line two. I need to talk to him."  
  
"Umm, right away, sir." He disappeared into the hall.  
  
She was still bawling, and his conscience was beating him into a stupor.  
  
"Dorothy--"  
  
"The results are being faxed, and I hope you're satisfied..." she hissed. "And to think I...I loved you..."  
  
He fisted a handful of his hair. //No, please, tell me they messed up...tell me it's a mistake, tell me ANYTHING but don't let it be true!// "Dorothy, are you sure it was--?"  
  
"I told you I've never been with another man! If I didn't care for you so much, I'd really hate you..."  
  
He sighed as it finally sunk in, and he hit his head back against his desk. "What can I do to make this better?" he asked, desperately. He didn't want to deal with a lawsuit, but he didn't want her to have to suffer through whatever he had done to her alone. If he had really raped her, he owed it to her to take care of her, AND the baby.  
  
"There IS no making it better, Quatre..."  
  
"But there has to be..." he bit his lip again, then sighed, "If...if I come down there and get a direct genetic test...and...it comes out positive...I'll..." He really didn't want to do this, but he had no choice. "I'll take full responsibility for you AND the child."  
  
She suddenly stopped. "You...you will?"  
  
"Yes, I will. I'll...if you'll take me, I'll even marry you, to help you retain a little honor after what I've done..."  
  
She sniffled. "I don't know if I trust you anymore."  
  
He sighed, then hit his head against the desk again, jarring his vision. //Stupid, stupid, stupid...//  
  
Suddenly, the door opened and both Lawrence and Jenny, his secretary, came rushing in, looking worried. The pink-clad girl ran up and handed him a sheet of paper, her hands shaking, and Lawrence motioned to the phone.  
  
He steeled himself, then looked at the paper and stiffened as his eyes filled with tears. There was no doubt about it...he had done it, and he was going to be a father before the new year came about.  
  
**** ****  
  
December 25, AC 198--7:52pm...  
  
  
  
Quatre sat perfectly still in the waiting room, accompanied by two of his closest friends. It had been hours since he had heard anything, and he was dreading the moment that Dorothy gave birth. He was terrified, and for the last six months, he had been praying that the child would be born with black hair or brown eyes so he could escape this, but he knew it was foolish. He was paying for a mistake with his freedom, and though he had often dreamt of having children, he had NEVER considered having Dorothy Catalonia as his wife, OR having an illegitimate son or daughter with her. He had always wanted to have the perfect life...with the perfect person...but not her, and not under these circumstances.  
  
And the part that made it worse...Trowa hadn't spoken to him since he'd found out. He had packed his things, rented his apartment out and gone back to the circus a week later, and Quatre hadn't been able to so much as get a letter to him. He had even tried calling Catherine, his sister, but the one time he had gotten a hold of her, she had said in a sad tone that Trowa didn't want to be bothered and that she was sorry.  
  
That had crushed him. He had always thought that Trowa didn't care about him, though he had always loved him in secret, but hearing that had told him that Trowa might have cared, and that he felt betrayed. In a way, Quatre knew he HAD betrayed him by putting himself in this position, but still...he had wanted to see him one more time before he was doomed for the rest of his life.  
  
He had already married Dorothy, but there had been no big ceremony. He had signed a paper in the presence of a judge and a witness--Heero had been the witness, because Duo would've done something stupid to embarrass him--and that was all. Now, all he was waiting for was his mistake to arrive in the world.  
  
He burst into tears again for the fifth time in twenty minutes, falling out of his chair again and hitting the floor on front of Heero and Duo, the latter of the two whom immediately took him into his arms to cradle him. He felt so utterly lost and dirty for what he'd done, and there was no way he could take it back--ever. He had spent months wanting to make it all go away, but it wouldn't, and within the hour he would be a father.  
  
"Come on, Q..." Duo whispered to him, lifting him back into his chair. He knelt in front of him and took his hands, holding them in his own. "Try to look on the bright side...you always wanted kids, right?"  
  
"With TROWA, and ADOPTED ones!" he bawled.  
  
The perfect soldier frowned at Duo, who blushed. "Uh...man, I know there's something I can say to make this better...I just don't know what it is!"  
  
"Fatherhood is a sacred thing, Quatre," Heero said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Certainly, Dorothy isn't the ideal wife or mother, but you never know what the future might offer you, and who knows, you might just find it in your heart to love this child. I want you to remember when you hold that baby that you'll be holding a little part of yourself in your arms, a newborn being that will depend wholly on your guidance and care to survive, and your example to shape itself into a working member of our species. It's not just something that happens to an unfortunate man every ten seconds...it's a blessing, and you should try to see it that way."  
  
Quatre blinked, his grief having been dulled slightly. "That was beautiful, Heero."  
  
"Thank you, I try."  
  
Duo was gawking with a grin on his face, but he didn't comment. He looked up at Quatre. "You better now? No more crying?"  
  
He sighed. "I'm not sure...maybe."  
  
"Let us hope so. I didn't come all this way to watch a grown man cry."  
  
His heart jumped into his throat and he looked up, his eyes filling with tears again, but for a different reason. "TROWA?!"  
  
It was the brunette acrobat, all right. It was really Trowa.  
  
Quatre thoughtlessly leapt at him, crushing him in a hug and crying into his chest. "It's really you...you really came...oh God, I was so scared you wouldn't..."  
  
Trowa chuckled, weakly. "I might be here as a long-term resident if you keep squeezing...I need to breathe, Quatre..."  
  
He blinked, then let go, blushing and teary-eyed. "I'm sorry..." he said. "I didn't mean to...oh, I'm just so glad to see you...it feels like it's been forever, and I just--"  
  
Suddenly, the infirmary doors opened and a pretty young nurse peeked out. "Mr. Winner, sir?"  
  
He jumped, then spun and looked at her. "YES???"  
  
She blinked in response. "Um...I, uh, came to tell you that you're the father of a beautiful baby girl..."  
  
"A g-girl?"  
  
"Yes, and your wife would like to see you..."  
  
"WIFE?" Trowa asked, a stunned look crossing his narrow countenance.  
  
Quatre frowned, then turned to look at him, but the expression that replaced the shock hurt too much to look at. It was just like the look he'd given him that day when he'd found, out before he'd started making plans to leave for the circus...a look of betrayal and disbelief. "Trowa..."  
  
"Mr. Winner?"  
  
The green-eyed boy shook his head. "Go see your daughter, Quatre."  
  
"Will you be here when I get back?" he asked, flatly.  
  
Trowa sighed. "We'll see. Go see your daughter."  
  
With a sigh, the blonde turned and followed the nurse into the maternity ward, his mind reeling. He didn't know WHAT to think anymore. He couldn't be happy without Trowa, but he couldn't just ditch Dorothy...maybe he could send her child support--a LOT of child support!--and set her up in one of his mansions...would that work?  
  
He paused as he thought of his father. HE'D never been around either. No, that wouldn't do. He had to stay with her...but...he didn't want to. //Well, you got yourself into it, Quatre Raberba Winner,// his mind spat. //So you can deal with it. It was your OWN fault this happened.//  
  
It was true. He sighed, then paused as the nurse suddenly stopped and opened a door, walking into a room behind a glass window. He followed her, still silent but curious. This was the nursery, he could tell, because of all the little glass beds with pink and blue squirming blankets on them. There was a soft whining, but the babies had stopped crying, for some reason.  
  
She raised a finger to her lips. "Shhh, stay here. I'll get her." She stepped carefully down an aisle in between a bunch of the little beds, peeking here and there at clipboards on the ends of them, then stopped about halfway and reached into one of them, scooping up a little pink bundle and cradling it. She hastily returned, then smiled up at him. "Have you ever held a baby?"  
  
Quatre shook his head. He suddenly felt like a five-year-old, standing there in front of her. Honestly, he'd never even SEEN a live infant, let alone touched one. He'd seen a mature baby on a movie once, but other than that, he was clueless! That was the trouble with being the youngest in a family...you had no idea about babies! "N-no..."  
  
The nurse sighed, smiling more warmly, then offered him the little pink blanket. "Here, take her." She set her his arms, then adjusted his arms, setting her head in the crook of his right arm and placing his left arm under her little body. "There, support her head and be careful, she's only a few minutes old."  
  
He stared for a moment at the tiny baby, and she stared back. She had a good amount of hair on her, and it was all in waves, like his own had been when he was a baby, but she was so little...he couldn't get over it! She weighed practically nothing, and she wasn't even crying, just staring up at him with her deep blue eyes.  
  
It was impossible to grasp how he felt at that moment. As Heero had said, this little girl was a part of him, HIS child, a little being dependent on his guidance, and she was so fragile. He wanted to protect her, to make sure that no one ever hurt her, and he sure as hell didn't want to hand her back to the nurse. "She's beautiful," he said at last, shifting her weight wholly onto his right arm and tapping a finger at her nose. She immediately grabbed his fingertip, then looked at it, cooing, and he smiled.  
  
"What's her name?" the nurse asked, smiling warmly.  
  
He paused. He hadn't really thought of that. "Hmm..."  
  
Suddenly, the nursery door opened and he looked up, then blinked as a familiar young man entered, looking sober and stoic as usual, but more so. He approached and looked down at the blonde young man, then at his daughter.  
  
The nurse jumped. "Sir, I'm afraid you can't--!"  
  
"No, no, it's okay," Quatre said. He looked back at Trowa for a moment, then offered him the little girl, but he shook his head.  
  
"No," the green-eyed youth said, finally. He looked down at her a moment, and she stared back, looking entranced. He offered her his finger and she took it, then stuck it in her mouth and began to suck on it. The slightest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it was short-lived, and he soon took his hand back and patted Quatre on his shoulder, then turned for the door.  
  
"Trowa?"  
  
"It was nice seeing you again, Quatre." With that, he walked out and passed the window, taking a cell phone from his pocket on the way. Before the sound-proof door closed, he briefly heard a small bit of what he was saying. "Hi, Catherine. Tell the troupe I'll be back shortly. Yeah, well you thought wrong..."  
  
Quatre sighed sadly, then looked back at the beautiful child in his arms, who began to cry and squirm the moment Trowa was out of sight. //I know how you feel, little one,// he thought. He sighed, then suddenly, a somber smile crossed his lips. "Katherine."  
  
"Catherine?"  
  
"With a K," he said, holding the baby close and offering her his finger, which she brought into her mouth instantly. He smiled, then looked at the window again, where another couple was cooing over their child. "Her name is Katherine Winner. She'll be my little Katie."  
  
****  
  
End of Prologue: To Be Continued 


	2. Computers and Crutches

My Little Katie  
  
By Xandra  
  
Chapter One: Computers and Crutches  
  
****  
  
(Present Day) January 20, AC 203--5:32am  
"Good morning, Earth Sphere!" a peppy voice said from within the radio nearby. "Or should I say good DAWN! I mean, honestly, if anyone is actually up LISTENING to this station, you need to go back to bed!"  
  
"You're telling me," Quatre sighed as he booted his computer up. He was still tired, as he was every morning, but he had no choice but to get up, thanks to his duties as CEO of Winner Resources. He had an online meeting in roughly a half-hour with several other aristocrats about closing a deal for their striking workers. All the other resource suppliers were having difficulties keeping their personnel satisfied, because of the increases in developmental demands.  
  
The war was over, sure, but even seven years later, people were still repairing their lives. Mobile suits were now used only as restoration and destruction apparatuses, like flying bulldozers for colonies. They were just heavy machinery for construction workers to use as they rebuilt the colony outer walls and even constructed new places for people to live. It was a long, hard road to recovery from a war, but the people behind the construction workers, the miners and the refiners, were getting sick of working so hard for so little. Quatre paid his own people well, because he knew how hard they worked, but these other suppliers didn't follow his example. He was up at dawn because grown men didn't have enough common sense between the three of them to fill a thimble, and he, at twenty-three, had to teach them something.  
  
Ah well. That was the price of NOT having your head up your ass in this day and age. Thank GOD for the man that had invented the idea of COFFEE.  
  
Quatre sighed as he sipped from his thirty-two ounce mug, then typed in his security code and sat back in his chair, striking the enter key with a pencil. //God,// he thought. //And to think, I used to think my Dad's job was COOL. Little boys are MONSTROUSLY ignorant little creatures. Thankfully I have a daughter!// He smiled at that thought as his weary eyes fell across a framed picture next to his monitor of himself and his little angel, Katie, at the park down the street from their villa. She was such a godsend. He didn't know what he'd do without that daily "morning, Dada!" he got when she shuffled out in her pink teddy bear footies.  
  
She was just about the only happy thing in his life. His marriage to Dorothy had been a joke, and it still was to the day--they even slept in separate beds (because God was merciful)--but he couldn't divorce her without losing half of everything he had, and that was a LOT to lose. He hadn't really thought of a prenuptial agreement when he'd signed that paper, because he'd been guilty, but now he knew her unlike anyone else, unfortunately. She was a bloodsucking bitch in the guise of a loving wife and devoted mother, and he'd realized after marrying her that she had always been patronizing and plastic even before he'd met her. He might have thought of it as a pity if he didn't have to LIVE with her! She was a horror in the morning, and a raving maniac when it came to getting her way, but she was ignorable.  
  
That was why he loved his Katie. She always seemed to arrive when he was the most stressed out with something cute to say or show to him, like one of her drawings or many little talents. Even at five, she was his perfect woman, the only female he could ever remember adoring, and why not? She was darling, and everybody knew it, even Dorothy, whom he sensed was starting to loathe the fact. Katie was his only support in this living hell.  
  
Suddenly, he heard something shuffle under his desk and he jumped, then looked down and smiled as a soft, muffled giggle came up to greet him. He raised an eyebrow. "Well, now, what do I have under my desk?"  
  
"Nothing," a cute little voice snickered.  
  
"Oh, silly me! I could've sworn that was my Katie under there." She giggled again and he smirked, sighing dramatically. "Ah well, I guess I'll have to find someone ELSE to give my good morning kiss to."  
  
"NO! NONONO!" she peeped. A pair of blue eyes peeked out from the shadows near his bare feet and a little body clung to his leg, giggling shrilly. "MY kiss! MY KISS!"  
  
He laughed, then scooted his chair back and lifted his leg, drawing the pink-clad little girl from the shadows and into the air with a squeal. "Oh really? Who said?"  
  
"I sayed!" she giggled. Katie scaled his leg, then looked up. "Pick me up! Pick me up!"  
  
With a sigh, he scooped the skinny little girl up and set her on her feet, standing her on the chair's seat next to his left hip. "Well, Little One, what are you doing up so early?"  
  
"I wanted ta see my dada, Dada," she said, reasonably. She wrapped her arms around his neck, then gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "I missed ya!"  
  
"But I put you to bed last night," he said. "How could you miss me?"  
  
"B'cuz I just can, that's why."  
  
"OH." Quatre smiled as the little girl seated herself on the arm of his chair, then reached a hand up and gently touched her cheek with his fingertips, sighing as he brushed the wavy platinum locks from her eyes. "You know, you're a really pretty little girl, Katie."  
  
"Well, YOU'RE pretty too, Dada," she said, beaming and grabbing his hand with both of hers. She was still so little--it was hard to get over it, even if he was an adult and she was a child. He had always been the littlest, out of the Gundam pilots, and the Maguanacs, and his sisters for a good while--but now he was the bigger one, and it was still really weird. She beamed that sunny smile at him, then leapt into his arms again and hugged him, burying her face in the shirt of his pajamas. "Love you."  
  
"Love you more."  
  
"Nuh-uh!"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"No! I love YOU more."  
  
"I love YOU more."  
  
"Nuh-uh, I love YOU more!"  
  
He smiled, shaking his head. This was a daily thing. Ever since she had learned the meaning of her last name, she had hated losing, ("I should win b'cuz I'm a Winner," she'd say) even to him. She fought over everything, even how much she loved him. "Okay, you love me more."  
  
"But don'cha love ME more?" she asked, pouting.  
  
He smacked a hand to his forehead, dramatically. "There is just no pleasing you, is their, Katie?"  
  
She giggled. "Nope! I'm happy now." She plopped down into his lap and grabbed the keyboard, setting it on hers. "Wha'cha doin', Dada? Can I help you play Solitaire again? Mama's not up yet, but I can think of a excuse instead of that one if you'll let me."  
  
He smirked. His daughter was still too young to understand the principle of an unhappy marriage (she though EVERYONE was happy all the time like she was) but she DID understand his need to escape Dorothy every once in a while WITHOUT having to fork over a credit card into her claws. "No, I have a meeting."  
  
"In your PJ's? I wish I could go to school in my PJ's! That would be fun!"  
  
He eyed the pink zip-up footie pajamas decked with teddy bears and smirked. She had insisted that he buy them for her a while back, and he couldn't really say no to her, especially when she promised to pay him back (silly as that was coming from a five-year-old that thought finding a NICKEL in the couch was hitting the jackpot). The awe that she sparked in him never dulled, not even slightly. "And you look so cute in those, too," he said, finally.  
  
She giggled. "You're silly, Dada!"  
  
"Well, I try." He logged onto the Internet, then patted her on her head. "You should go watch cartoons while I talk to the stuffy old men and try to get some people more money."  
  
She frowned. "Can't I help?"  
  
"No, baby, but you can help me by staying as sweet as you are forever."  
  
"I can do that!" she exclaimed, beaming. She hopped off his lap, then skipped away.  
  
He sighed, then shook his head, grinning despite his weary state. Yes, his daily visit from Katie was always a refreshing thing. He loved her so much, and she was an angel. //If I could stand the thought of sleeping with Dorothy, I might just ask for another one just like her. Too bad I get queasy just thinking about her naked.// He shuddered, then quickly took another sip of his coffee and set to work trying to contact the reps he had to talk to.  
  
Suddenly, Katie's cute little curly head peeked back in. "Daaaada?"  
  
He looked up. "Yes?"  
  
"Can...I bring Fluffy in? Pretty please with sugar on top?"  
  
He paused a moment, considering how loud Dorothy would shout the moment she caught that dog inside, then grinned. "Of course, honey, but don't let him bark."  
  
She beamed. "T'anks!" With that, she was gone again.  
  
He sighed. //God, I just hope it didn't rain, or else I'll have to listen to her bitching about THAT too.// He could just hear her voice in his head. /'How could you let that mutt in here to ruin my carpets again? Why did you ever BUY that little thing?! I'll KILL it! Katherine, put it outside! NOW!'/ "Lord, I swear, that woman will be the end of me."  
  
~  
  
The little girl wrapped all in pink rushed through her huge house, her padded feet silently hitting the carpets as she ran. She wasn't supposed to run inside, but Mama wasn't up, so it was okay. Dada always said she could run if she wanted to. She liked him better anyway, because Mama shouted and took her stuff when she was having fun, and she was always telling her to be quiet and to smile for strangers and to put Fluffy outside. He was a perfectly good dog! She loved her Fluffy more than she loved Mama too, and she was sure Dada felt the same way!  
  
She made it to the front door, then unlocked it and pulled it open, padding out into the early morning light to stand on the veranda that wrapped all around their big house, then looked around. "Now where is my Fluffy?" she asked herself, frowning and putting her hands on her hips. She looked around a bit more, then cupped her hands around her mouth. "FLUUUUUUUFFYYYYY!"  
  
Immediately, there was a loud "ARF-ARF!" and her puppy came running up, jumping onto her and pinning her to the deck. He was some kind of dog, though she wasn't sure what kind, but she loved him nonetheless. He wasn't even as big as a basketball, small enough to sleep in her dollhouse if she took the lid off and didn't tell Mama, but he was all curly and fuzzy, like her. He even had yellow hair like hers, but darker, like goldish-yellow instead of whitish-yellow. He was really cute. He immediately started licking her face and sniffing all over the place. Apparently he'd missed her!  
  
"Fluffy!" she squealed as he sniffed her nose, then licked up the side of her face with his little tongue. He sure liked to lick people...well, nice people anyway! He liked Dada and Katie herself, but not Mama, probably because she yelled too much and she smelled like too many flowers. He didn't like flowers anyway, which was why he peed on them and squished them when Mama wasn't paying attention. She giggled, then grabbed him and pulled him into her arms, hugging him like a teddy bear and trying to sit up. He was such a silly puppy! "You better have gone when you were out last night, or else Mama's gonna shout some more at ya. We don't want that, huh?"  
  
He barked in response and she nodded. NOBODY, not even Dada, wanted to hear Mama yell. It was loud and not fun to hear.  
  
Katie carried her dog back into the house, awkwardly holding him up around his belly with his front paws hanging over her arms. "So, what do we watch, Fluffy?"  
  
"Arf!"  
  
"Aww, but Pound Puppies isn't on until seven, silly. We'll have to watch the news, prob'ly." She set him on the huge, puffy white couch, then jumped up next to him and took the remote from the purple side-table to her right. She began flipping through the channels, past paid programming, news reports and annoying kid's channels showing how 'hygiene is FUN!' and 'candy is BAD!' "Nothing on," she pouted.  
  
She stopped on the news and shifted onto her side, pulling her legs up onto the couch and putting them on Fluffy's fuzzy back. Hopefully there would be something good to report on, or else she'd have to go back to bed until something interesting came on.  
  
The lady on TV was wearing a lot of make-up (sort of like Mama did) and wearing a pink suit with a puffy green bow tie around her neck. She had her curly yellow hair all hairsprayed and a big smile on her face with little red lines of lipstick coloring the edges of it, but she looked really old and tired, probably because of all the coffee she had consumed in the last few hours. She was sorta pretty, but she looked like she needed a nap REALLY bad. Funny how Dada looked that way sometimes, only without the make- up and funny clothes. "Good morning, Earth Sphere, I'm Midii Une and we're back with you're channel seven morning news."  
  
"Why does she say we if she's just one person?" Katie asked Fluffy, who shrugged.  
  
"Arf!"  
  
"Yeah, I bet she's too sleepy. Maybe her Mom should tell her to bed again."  
  
Miss Une kept her big smile on, but she was definitely not happy. She arranged her big stack of papers, and a little picture of a dog appeared in the corner of the screen. It was really big, almost like a fuzzy beach ball. "Well, let's start off our Saturday morning with the usual oddest Earth Sphere news, and believe me, THIS is a strange first report. A Pomeranian in England by the name of Tiny, who originally held the Guinness Book of World Records' Record for lightest full-grown small dog in the world at a record three ounces, has APPARENTLY recovered from her anorexia. Her owner, the widowed Muffy Appertain, told our reporters that, though she's upset about her dear little Tiny's losing her place in the record book, she's happy that her baby is out of the danger zone. However, I'm being informed at the moment that little Tiny has a nomination for a place in the book AGAIN, THIS time as the HEAVIEST full-grown small dog. Judges say that the current record-holder, 85-pound Beefy, a Dachshund or wiener dog from France, might just lose his spot by this August, as Mrs. Appertain is already busy stuffing Tiny full of expensive English foods."  
  
"OOH," Katie said, blinking. She liked dogs, but that one looked a LITTLE too fat. "Somebody had too much Puppy Chow!" She looked at Fluffy. "SEE? That's what I mean! If you don't keep up your exercise, you're gonna end up like that and I'm gonna change your name to FATTY!"  
  
"Arf! Arf, arf!" Fluffy objected.  
  
She frowned, then smiled and patted his head before lying back down. "Aww, no, I wouldn't do that. I'm just kiddin' you, silly! But don't you go getting fat like Tabitha!" She frowned again. "I hate that cat."  
  
Fluffy shook his head. "Grrr..."  
  
"No, you can't eat Mama's kitty," Katie said, scoldingly. "You'd die of heart failure! You know what the doctor said about fatty foods hurting your heart! Besides, Mama would be mad at you, too, and you'd choke on all that hair."  
  
"In other odd news," Miss Une continued, "last night at the Earth Sphere Wrestling Federation's live presentation of Slap-down, their two star wrestlers, the Stone Golem and Don Huan, were brought down by a pair of fans from the crowd. The Golem was quoted to have set up a challenge, saying, quote: 'I dare any two of you little girlie men to come and take me and Don on, and if you win, YOU can take home the champion tag-team belt! We'll stomp BOTH of you into pulp!' We have footage from the fight on hand, and," she paused, smirking, "Well, the Golem got what he asked for!"  
  
The screen flickered off Miss Une and went dark, then lit up again, showing a big arena where a big old black man in tight blue underpants was standing with a microphone in his hands, shouting at the millions of people that were cheering and holding signs all over the place. Behind him, a tan- skinned man with long, black hair a matching spandex pants was sniffing a fake rose, looking proud and stupid at the same time.  
  
Katie blinked. Dada had told her that these things were all fake, but she was curious, so she watched. Violence was bad, but maybe it would be okay, if it was pretend violence.  
  
Suddenly, the camera zoomed in on some stairs in the crowd and a pair of men who were walking down toward the ring, one being dragged by the other. The one doing the dragging had long, copper hair, a black outfit and a big mouth, (as was proven by his shouting back and actually being audible, even to Katie) and the one being dragged had short, dark hair and an annoyed look on his face. The announcer was shouting about how brave the boys were, and the other announcer was shouting about how dumb they were and how they were gonna get smashed.  
  
The guy in the blue undies teased the braided boy and his friend as they climbed into the ring, and he said lots bad words that got beeped out, so many that Katie was afraid Dada would hear all the beeping and think his alarm clock was going off. He said stuff like "a [beep]ing cross-dressed [beep] in a God [beep] preacher's suit and a [beep]ing cross-country mountain-biker in spandex?! What kind of [beep]ing joke IS this?!"  
  
And then, the camera flashed off, only to flash back on from a closer spot later, showing the guy with the braid beating the big black man's head against one of the corner poles. Meanwhile, his friend was holding the stupid-looking guy with the rose in a knot-shape with his chest on the ground and his legs pulled up to his ears. It was really weird. The announcers were shouting all kinds of things and the crowd was screaming with happiness.  
  
The man with the braid finished beating up the huge black man, then turned him over and kicked him into the middle, and his partner picked up the unconscious other guy and dropped him on top of him. Then, the guy stepped on the dumb guy's chest and took his belt, which was really too big for him and had gold all over it with lots of words. His friend took the microphone and handed it to him. "EAT THAT!"  
  
Katie blinked. "Doodle and Hero!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands, excitedly. Those were her uncles! "YAAAAAY! Clap, Fluffy, they won something!"  
  
Fluffy barked a few times.  
  
After a minute, Dada came out of his office from upstairs, looking curious. "Katie, what's all the noise about?"  
  
"Look at the TV! LOOKLOOKLOOK!"  
  
He did, and his mouth fell open. "DUO? HEERO?! Oh crap. Scoot over, Katie." He sat down next to her and took the remote, turning up the TV as Miss Une came back on. "Geez, third time they've been on the news this month..."  
  
"The anonymous fans," she said, "have been identified as a pair of area residents, Duo Maxwell and Heero Yuy. To add insult to injury, it was found shortly after the incident that the two are an area GAY couple, having come to the show on their seven-year anniversary because both are fans of the sport. It turns out that Mr. Yuy is in fact SERGEANT Yuy of the city's ESWAT team, in association with the Preventers, and Mr. Maxwell is a certified guidance counselor for troubled teens at the East Side Boys and Girls outreach."  
  
"What's ESWAT, Dada?" Katie asked.  
  
"Emergency Secret Warriors Assistance Team. Umm, it's sort of like the higher police, the people that stop the things that normal police officers can't stop. Sort of like secret agents."  
  
"Like on Spy Kids?"  
  
Dada smiled in that funny way that said he thought she was silly and nodded. "Yes, honey."  
  
"Ooh, neato!"  
  
Miss Une's little screen brought up another shot of her uncles, this time with a reporter. Her uncle Duo (she called him Doodle because he was like a cartoon guy, because he was funny) was playing with the big golden belt while her uncle Heero (she called him Hero because he was brave and she couldn't pronounce his name right) talked to the reporter guy.  
  
"You made it look so easy out there, guys! How did you do it?"  
  
Heero shrugged. "Unlike most people, we know that they're just actors, but THEY didn't know that we knew it, so we took advantage of it. Not exactly the nicest thing to do, but it was HIS idea."  
  
"I'm personally ready for round two," Duo said from the background, grinning. "I barely broke a sweat!"  
  
Miss Une appeared again, smiling and sipping from her coffee cup. "Though we don't have footage, our anchor man on the scene, Peter Rican, reported to have witnessed an amusing scene soon after this when Mr. Maxwell--ahem-- K.O.'ed the president of ESWF, Victor McGuy, when he requested that the belt be returned to the federation." She smirked. "Mr. Maxwell was happy to report that he was allowed to keep it."  
  
Dada smacked a hand to his forehead. "Oh, Duo..." he shook his head, then stood up. "Okay, I have to go finish my work, but try to keep it down for me. You don't want your mother to wake up, do you?"  
  
Katie shook her head. "We'll be quiet, won't we, Fluffy?"  
  
Fluffy nodded his head, then snuggled down into the couch and yawned.  
  
"Good. Now, if your mother wakes up, tell her I'm in a meeting and that I can't be bothered. If Tabitha wakes up...toss her outside."  
  
Katie beamed. She LIKED doing THAT, and it cheesed Mama off a whole lot! "'Kay! Love ya, Dada."  
  
"Love you more, Katie."  
  
"HEY! Let's not start THAT again!"  
  
He laughed and shook his head, then headed back into his study and closed the doors behind him.  
  
With a sigh, Katie shifted her slippered feet on Fluffy's back, then yawned and looked at the TV.  
  
The news was still on, and the lady looked even more tired, but as she switched papers, a smile crossed her face. "We have an exclusive here this morning. The famed traveling show, the Trinity Circus, has once again returned to our area, bringing with it its spectacular presentation of the time-honored tradition of exciting family entertainment. I'm sure all of our viewers recall last year's fabulous display, and this year's promises to be no less than perfect, returning with its famous and talented performance cast."  
  
The little screen in the corner brought up a picture of a big yellow and red tent with a whole bunch of people and animals standing out in front of it. All of them were smiling for the camera--except one guy with this weird brown hair. He was standing next to a shorter girl with red curly hair and a big smile, his arms folded across his chest. He looked annoyed, but geez, he was pretty--well, for a boy, anyway. After a minute, the picture took up the screen and changed to a different one, where it showed some clowns doing tricks while an elephant stood in the background, carrying a lady in a pretty pink dress that was doing a handstand on its back.  
  
"Though the circus is now under new management, the show won't be changing its ways any time soon. Now, to the delight of many of the performers, the Trinity is under the direction of their headliners, Triton and Catherine Bloom, second-generation acrobats and, as it happens, the long-lost daughter and son of the circus' ORIGINAL headlining acrobats, of James and Arista Bloom."  
  
The picture changed to one where the red-haired girl and the frowning boy were stand together on a tightrope really high in the air without any ropes or anything.  
  
Katie blinked. "Hey, her name is like mine! Hear that, Fluffy?"  
  
"Arf!"  
  
"Yup, she's pretty too, just like that guy." She frowned a moment, noticing at he wasn't smiling in THIS picture either. "He'd be prettier if he smiled, though. Somebody oughta tickle him!"  
  
Fluffy nodded his agreement.  
  
Miss Une wasn't finished yet, of course, though she looked ready to give up on her job as a whole. Katie STILL thought that she needed to sleep. "It seems that their troupe arrived sometime last night and has been setting up for a performance later this afternoon." Suddenly, she paused as a hand came into view with a paper. She took it and checked, then gasped. "OH! This just in! As with almost every year, the CAASA, Citizens Against Animal Slavery Association, has been spotted in the area near the circus grounds, and witnesses expect a good deal of static from them as usual. It says here that, though the police offered their assistance in keeping the demonstrators at bay, Triton Bloom has ordered that they leave the CAASA members alone, saying, quote: 'People are entitled to their beliefs and we are doing nothing wrong, so let them be. We'll prove it to them non- violently if we must.' Last year, damages to the circus were so severe that the citizens of the area were afraid that the Trinity wouldn't return again, but it seems that Mr. Bloom, though curt as always, is optimistic about the proceedings. I guess the old saying is still trite, but true--the show MUST go on. I'm Midii Une with the morning news."  
  
~  
  
Five years. It had been five years since he had heard that name, seen that face, and Trowa wasn't too happy about being reminded of his pain again by the tabloids. The newspaper was riddled with columns on Quatre's successes in the last month with the continuous peace talks between the colonies and Earth, and it was reassuring to hear that soon it would all be over, but the picture had made him uncomfortable. The blonde had been cute when the Latin acrobat had seen him last--that day at the hospital had been a nightmare--but now he was utterly divine. He had taken his sweet time to mature, but when he had...  
  
Trowa hit himself with the wrench he had been using to repair the special- effects light machine, then went back to rearranging the inner workings of the contraption, throwing the news paper aside. //Stop it,// he thought, harshly. //It's been five years. He has a family now, and a life, and whatever you may have had with him is now impossible. You'd be lucky to pass him without running into a secret service agent nowadays, let alone make him love you again. You lost your chance when you walked out on him.//  
  
Oh, what a memory THAT was, one he had fought to bury in the back of his mind, but it had stayed with him all these years, and it continued to haunt his dreams by day and night.  
  
[\\He was going to do it. No more holding back, he was going to tell him. Trowa marched resolutely toward the hanger steps, holding his breath and crossing his fingers. //I have to tell him now,// he thought, //before I lose my nerve...//  
  
"Trowa, where are you going?" Wufei asked, looking up from the book he had been reading.  
  
He froze, feeling that doubt hitting him again. //Don't say it! Don't tell him, or you'll never live it down!// "Uh...I'm, uh...gonna go check on Heavyarms."  
  
"I don't think it's going anywhere, Trowa. Why are you REALLY going down there?"  
  
"I'm looking for someone, have you seen him?" he blurted. Then, he paused and smacked a hand to his forehead. //Oh yes, I definitely need to learn to be quiet when it's IMPORTANT! God knows I'm good at shutting up when it doesn't MATTER!//  
  
//Nice going, stupid,// a snide voice in his head spat.  
  
"Who would this someone BE?" Trowa went to answer, then bit his tongue and stayed silent. Wufei raised an eyebrow. "When was the last time you slept?"  
  
He frowned a moment. "Last...week...sometime..."  
  
The Chinese boy shut his book. "It's Quatre again, isn't it?"  
  
He jumped. "WHA?! WHATGIVESYOUTHATIDEA?!?!"  
  
"Oh yeah, YOU'VE had too much coffee."  
  
"HAVENOT!"  
  
Wufei smirked. "Trowa, I've seen how you look at him, so don't bother trying to cover it up. Hell, I'm sure the only one that DOESN'T know how you feel about him IS Quatre. It's written all over your face every time he passes you, every time he gives you that meek little smile before running off to do something. You shouldn't bother hiding it anymore. The war's over, even I'M easing up. I'm sure you can tell him."  
  
He sighed to himself, then nodded. "Heero said he was in the hanger, and I was going to tell him now...I guess I'm just afraid he'll turn me down..."  
  
"Somehow, I don't think so. Go ahead."  
  
Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Since when are you so supportive?"  
  
He shrugged. "Eh, I made a bet with Duo two years ago that you'd crack eventually and tell Quatre before--" he paused, then smirked. "Well, needless to say, you go down there and I win."  
  
"Oh REALLY? Before what?"  
  
"Never mind, just go confess, lover-boy."  
  
Trowa rolled his eyes, then took a deep breath, relaxing just slightly, and headed for the staircase. He could do it. He could. He had nothing to be afraid of. It was just Quatre, after all.  
  
Just Quatre...  
  
He paused as he reached the bottom of the stairs, then peered into the darkness of the hanger with a soft sigh. //I can't do this.// As he turned to ascend to the ground floor of the hideout again, he paused. What was that sound?  
  
Crying?  
  
//Quatre???// Curiously, Trowa turned and quietly made his way into the hanger, listening to the echoing of the sobs. Yes, it was Quatre, but the question was, why was he crying?  
  
The green-eyed Silencer slipped soundlessly through the darkness, following the echoes to the point of origin, and as he peeked carefully into the docking bay where the Deathscythe was slowly rusting from neglect, he found who he was looking for. However, he wasn't alone. Quatre was there, sitting in the shadow of the old Gundam with Duo, who was cradling him as he cried. The blonde was practically in hysterics.  
  
//What's happening?// he thought, curiously. Taking great care not to make any noise, Trowa descended the old metal steps into the bay, listening in anguish to Quatre cry. The very sound made him feel awful, and he wanted to make it stop. The problem was, he'd have to have a reason first. He had no alibi to save him if the two noticed he was here, short of confessing his deepest passion, and he wasn't really sure he wanted DUO MAXWELL to stand there while he did it. So, he stood in the shadows and listened.  
  
"There HAS to be some way out of it, Quatre, there HAS to be!"  
  
"But there ISN'T!" the blonde cried, hysterically. "Duo, you don't understand! I actually..." he stopped and sobbed again, burying his face in the shoulder of the braided teen, who sighed.  
  
Trowa frowned. //I wish I'd told him sooner,// he thought, //Then maybe I could be the one he cried to...//  
  
"Don't say it, Quatre, you'll only hurt yourself worse."  
  
"I have to...I..."  
  
What happened next brought the brunette acrobats world crashing down.  
  
"I slept with Dorothy...and I got her pregnant..."  
  
Trowa felt his heart stop and he almost fell to the floor as it shattered into millions of pieces. //No...// Everything was ruined now. Everything. It was all over. He couldn't tell him now, he just COULDN'T. Just THINKING that he had actually been with that--that insane BITCH in such an intimate way...  
  
Suddenly, as if sensing his presence, Duo's head jerked up and he looked right at him, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open. Even in the almost pitch-blackness, he could see him, but he didn't bother trying to hide. He hurt too much to even move.  
  
Quatre noticed the stiffness in his friend's embrace and looked up at him, then slowly, he followed his gaze right to Trowa. He gasped, his pretty eyes flying open wide. "T-T-T-T..."  
  
He didn't say anything--he couldn't have, even if he'd wanted to. He just stared at the blonde as he staggered to his feet, and he assumed that his expression said everything, because he looked like a child who'd been caught by his parent in an act of disobedience. He looked like he wanted to explain, and to beg for forgiveness.  
  
"Trowa..."  
  
The brunette turned away from him, unable to look him in the eye. It just hurt too much. He wanted to run, to leave and never come back. He didn't want to face him after hearing such a thing. He wanted to get away.  
  
That was just what he did. Without looking back at the stammering 04 pilot, he stormed back up the stairs and didn't stop for an instant, every step crushing his heart more and more. By the time he reached the ground floor, having left Quatre's cries of agony behind, he couldn't feel anything. He was numb from the eyes down, and he refused to let the nagging pain out of the box he'd locked it in. He was leaving. He had to go. He couldn't be here. Not anymore.\\]  
  
Trowa hit his head against the machine, trying to clear the memory away, but the scenes flashed again and again before his eyes. They wouldn't leave him alone. They never did. //Damn me,// he thought. //If I wasn't so fucking weak-hearted, it wouldn't hurt anymore...it shouldn't hurt anymore...//  
  
Suddenly, the curtains over the entrance to the room flew open and Catherine burst in, her hair mussed and a worried look on her face. "Trowa! Come quick, it's the demonstrators again!"  
  
He sighed and tossed his wrench aside. "Aww, damn it."  
  
****  
  
They were back again, all right, and they were throwing things this time, rotten fruit and garbage in their arsenal. The circus performers were getting REALLY sick of this. "Why don't you bunch of tree-hugging yahoos go wave your signs somewhere else and leave us alone?" Isabella, the snake charmer, demanded angrily. "We're not breaking any laws here! We have a right to our trade!"  
  
"Animals were NOT put on this earth to be forced into slavery by a bunch of carnies in clown make-up and frilly dresses, lady!" a man shouted.  
  
"Yeah!" a woman in a pink sweater cried. She launched a brown head of lettuce at Isabella, but the snake charmer managed to dodge it and it splattered against the tent. "God's creatures are not your play-things! You haven't got the right to FORCE them to perform so YOU can make money! Selfish, sick people!"  
  
Trowa sighed and shook his head, then quickly stepped between the protestors and his friends, raising a hand. "ENOUGH!" he shouted.  
  
The protestors lowered their signs and stopped pitching the garbage, and good thing too, because Archibald, their strong-man from Yugoslavia, looked ready to start force-feeding it to them. He may not have spoken too much English, but he sure as hell understood what was going on.  
  
Trowa looked around at the destruction the people had caused and frowned. The tent was covered with melting and molding articles of food and trash, as were several of the performers, and the ground was littered with it. It was disgusting, and had he not been such a calm person, he might've been furious. It would take hours to clean it up, and though it was still early, they had practicing to do for the show this afternoon, and the next one tonight. They didn't have TIME to be dealing with this!  
  
A man in a thick blue sweater with a mop of dark brown hair hanging unbound at his shoulders walked up and handed his sign reading THE SLAVE TRADE IS STILL GOING and picturing an animal in chains to another picketer, then looked up at Trowa with a lofty expression. It might have been more effective had he not been somewhere near the green-eyed circus owner's mid- chest. "Are YOU the owner of this abomination?" he asked in a snide tone.  
  
Trowa frowned. "I am the manager, yes. May I ask what you're striving to prove by sabotaging my tent and antagonizing my performers?"  
  
"You're a slave-driver!" a woman shouted.  
  
"You people abuse your animals and make them do degrading things JUST for your entertainment!"  
  
"We won't stand for it!"  
  
The man at the head of them nodded. "Yes. We're the representatives of CAASA, and we've come to close down your slave trade. This circus is a breach of ALL the rights of the animals of our mother earth!"  
  
Catherine stormed out of the tent and stepped between Trowa and the mop- haired man. "EXCUSE me!" she shouted at him, jabbing a finger into his chest and pushing him back. "We don't ABUSE our animals, SIR, and we CERTAINLY don't use them as SLAVES, so you can take your little group and go find someone ELSE to pick on!"  
  
"We've seen what circuses do to their animals to train them, miss," the man said, harshly, leering down at her. Trowa might have jumped to his sister's rescue, had she needed any. He knew better than anyone that Catherine was a very liberated young woman and that she could kick the ass of any snotty demonstrator, especially this wimpy little guy. "You beat them, starve them, threaten them with physical mutilation all to get them to perform! You force tigers to jump through rings of fire when you KNOW they're deathly afraid of it, whip those poor old elephants with chains and ropes to make them carry children around your rings--they do your tricks because they're AFRAID of you people! You DO abuse them, we've seen it! THIS is why we come every year to make you leave, and until you free your animals, we won't leave you alone!"  
  
Catherine balled up her fist to hit him, but Trowa interceded and caught it, clearing his throat. She quickly backed down, allowing him to take control. "Please, ladies and gentlemen," he said, slowly, "I know that many circuses may have practiced these forms of torture upon their animals in the past, but let me assure you, we love our animals. They AREN'T slaves. We train them by a system of treat-giving and rewards, NOT pain and torture, which is why we've never had any dangerous escapes, accidents or casualties, like many of our competitors. A happy animal doesn't attack the people that love and take care of it, which is why we've never hurt them to make them perform."  
  
The others exchanged glances, looking somewhat convinced, but the man at the front frowned. "Prove it."  
  
Trowa nodded, then gestured to the others, who moved aside. "Very well, follow me."  
  
As the man took a step toward the tent, however, he stopped him.  
  
"However," he said, narrowly pinning him with a stern look, "If I prove to you that none of our animals are in any way unhappy, you and your people must agree to help clean up this mess you made of our tent. We still have a show to do."  
  
He nodded. "Only if you prove me wrong."  
  
Trowa sighed, then turned and led the demonstrators around to the back of the tent with the circus performers following closely behind. From there, he took them to the holding area, where the animals and their pens were located.  
  
One of the demonstrators pointed at a cage. "CAGES? Oh, yes, quite a way to keep them HAPPY."  
  
Catherine frowned. "How else are we gonna transport a lion? In a recyclable cardboard BOX?"  
  
"PLEASE," Trowa said, tensely, "PAY ATTENTION."  
  
The others quickly hushed.  
  
He knelt next to the cage with the lion in it and reached a hand inside, then gently patted him on his head. "Our animals are happy here. Isabella, please."  
  
Isabella went to the hand-woven basket she kept her python in and brought him out, then put him across her shoulders and kissed him on his nose. "Aww, there's my baby...meet Precious, my snake."  
  
The demonstrators marveled like children at the woman with her snake. Isabella tapped his nose and he opened his mouth, showing that he still had his fangs, unlike most snakes. "He hasn't been de-fanged," Trowa pointed out, "That's a cruel procedure, so we didn't have it done. His poison glands have been removed, but we left his fangs. He can bite, but he doesn't, because he has no reason."  
  
Isabella brought him forward and allowed a few of them to touch him, and the snake didn't bother biting. "Wow," the woman in the pink sweater said. "I'm sorry, ma'am..."  
  
"That's fine, dear."  
  
Catherine knelt next to Trowa and opened the lion's cage, then drew him out by his collar and knelt down next to him, smiling snidely as the people jumped back with alarm. "You see? Most of these animals have been around here since I was a child. I know them, they know me, and they don't hurt us because WE don't hurt THEM. You can check them all for scars or signs of unhappiness and you won't find one, not one. We love our animals."  
  
The lion nuzzled her face and she laughed, then patted his nose. Trowa smiled to himself, though the expression felt plastic and foreign. It was rare when he had the chance to smile anymore.  
  
One of the demonstrators knelt and pointed at a caged tiger, who was half asleep and lying on his side. "THIS one has scars. WHY?"  
  
"Zhat is Aladdin," Archibald said, flatly, "We rescue him from carnibal zhat abuse him. He has scars because zhey beat him, but we treat him nice and he no hurt anymore."  
  
"Oh..."  
  
Trowa dispatched the others to start releasing the animals, and the picketers slowly started to accept the fact that they didn't hurt their animals. Their leader eventually returned to him to apologize.  
  
"We're sorry, Mr. Bloom," he said, sincerely. "We didn't mean to ruin your show--we were just concerned for the animals. I'm personally amazed at the healthiness of your pets here, and you've shown us such patience and graciousness even though we've done nothing but bother you. How do you manage to stay so calm?"  
  
He sighed. "As I've said before, beasts only bear their fangs at enemies, and like my animals, I only attack those who have earned my wrath. You've done nothing but push for what you believe in, and I can understand that."  
  
"But we've wrecked your tent and annoyed your workers!" the man said, looking amazed.  
  
Then, Trowa grinned darkly and patted him on the shoulder. "Ah, but you'll be cleaning it up, or I'll be calling my lawyer."  
  
The man smiled, sheepishly. "Oh, now I see."  
  
"Yes, you do, now go to Isabella and request a box of plastic gloves, because we have practicing to do, and I believe your organization has a circus grounds to clean up."  
  
The man nodded. "You heard the man, people. We've dawdled long enough, so we have work to do!"  
  
Trowa sighed, then turned and paused as the rest of the circus troupe stood staring at him, Catherine at the head of them. "Is there a problem?"  
  
Catherine frowned, then looked at Isabella, who shook her head. "Trowa, you're more depressed than usual. Do you need to talk to us about something?"  
  
"We are family," Archibald said, flatly. "You talk to us, Tarowa, because we love you."  
  
The others cheered their agreements and he forced a smile. "No, I'm all right. I'm just thinking."  
  
"About what?" Isabella asked.  
  
Suddenly, their fire-eater, an Arabian named Cassíme, walked up in his baggy white pants and pointed gold shoes, carrying the newspaper under his arm. He dropped it at Trowa's feet. "This. He's thinking about this."  
  
Catherine knelt and picked it up as he turned away, folding his arms stubbornly. "Quatre Raberba Winner. Hn. I should've known it was about him again. Trowa--"  
  
"Catherine, don't go pouring salt into an open wound," he spat. "Leave it alone. Just leave it, I can take care of myself."  
  
Archibald scoffed. "Lying does bad for karma, Tarowa."  
  
He sighed, then turned and looked at all of them, immediately seeing that his front wasn't fooling anyone. He could fool normal people, but this was his family. There was no lying to people that cared for you. "Thanks, but I'm old enough to take care of myself, now we have a show to put on by noon and none of us have practiced. Get in costume and start setting up. We have money to make. Come on, don't just stand there, MOVE."  
  
Isabella rolled her eyes and walked off with Precious while Archibald picked their old lion up like a rag-doll and carried him back to his cage, where he set him down. Cassíme rolled his eyes and grabbed the paper, then walked off with it, flipping to the sport's page. The others quickly departed, going their separate ways, but Catherine remained leering at him. He couldn't order her to go away, because she was his partner in ownership AND his older sister. She had more power than he did in MORE than one way.  
  
He sighed and turned away again, then went to the lion's cage and knelt down inside, sitting near his stomach and patting his head. This was the lion that had first gotten him the job here at the circus before the old ringmaster had retired from being the manager, and now it was getting old. It had been almost eight years since the day he had walked into that tent as a teenager in need of a hiding place, and now he had a home with these people, with the animals, amongst the glitter, the lights and the cheering crowds, but...  
  
...He wasn't happy. He finally had a place to belong and he really was not happy. He'd tried everything from pretending he was content to drinking himself into a stupor and passing out all kinds of places, but when he woke up and looked around, realizing that he had wasted yet another day of his worthless, lonely life, it always made it worse. He was really miserable here, and he knew why...of course he knew why. He had walked out on the person he loved twice in a row, once because he felt hurt and a second time because he felt alienated, and now he was alone again. It was a terrible feeling, being alone. Even with his sister and all the circus performers, he was still alone, and he would be forever, because the one person he wanted to be with was married, had a daughter and a life, and was a man.  
  
Catherine approached the cage, but he hooked his foot in the bars of the door stubbornly and pulled it closed before she could get close enough. She knelt, then rolled her eyes. "You're being childish, Trowa."  
  
"I'm not too old to be childish," he muttered, leaning his head against that of the huge lion, who was settling down for a nap.  
  
She sighed, then reached in and patted the lion's head. "Mac's getting pretty old, huh, Trowa? He was one of your first friends here."  
  
He didn't say anything.  
  
"I remember when you first came in here and scared the ringmaster half to death by sticking your hand in here with him. Before you came, no one but me could get anywhere near him without him going ballistic. Now, he's as gentle as a puppy, all because someone proved that you don't have to be mean to get an animal to behave."  
  
He sighed and hugged the lion, unconsciously. He'd become pretty attached to him, and though he knew that he was old and slotted to go pretty soon, he thought of him as the only other creature that knew how he felt--caged, and alone.  
  
"I noticed how he looks kinda lonely here, all by himself," Catherine continued, patting the old lion's head. "When I look at him, I don't see that wild, untamed look in his eyes anymore. That spark's gone, like he's lost his soul...it's pretty sad, don't you think?"  
  
He frowned and turned away from her, sighing.  
  
"Maybe we should try to help him, let him know we still love him and that pain and loneliness can be helped by family and friends. I mean, God knows he has enough friends to last him a lifetime or more..." She put her hand on his knee and he looked at her, trying to keep from letting her see his pain. She could see it, though, he knew, front or no front. She was his sister, and she knew him too well to be fooled by his old tactics. "Hey, where's that pretty smile? I miss it, and I'm sure Mac might too. Who knows...it might make you feel better."  
  
Trowa shook his head. "I don't want to smile right now, Cathy, but thanks for trying."  
  
"Hey, you, don't give me that. I know you don't like being this way, but what good are you doing whining about it? It's like cutting your leg off and standing there while you bleed!" She reached into the cage and tried to grab at his arm, but he shifted away and she frowned. "Trowa, until you either get over Quatre or go and talk to him, you're going to keep bleeding until you bleed to death."  
  
"Nice analogy, but I'm not going. You can forget it."  
  
"Fine, then, Trowa," she said with a sigh. "You sawed your leg off five years ago and you've been letting it bleed, Triton Bloom, but I think you've bled long enough. It's time you stopped trying to bandage it up and go to a hospital, and Trowa, Quatre is that hospital you need to go to."  
  
He sat up and watched as his sister stood up and headed off across the grass toward the tent, looking mussed and a bit angry. "Catherine..."  
  
She stopped and turned around, pointing at him. "You've spent too long missing your leg, Trowa, so you get it reattached or learn to live without it, because we're all really sick of watching you bleed, and I am sick of being your crutch. I love you, but I won't carry you forever, little brother, mark my words. You're going to have to learn to stand on your own again." With that said, she left him to think.  
  
He sighed a moment, then looked at the old lion, who was looking at him already. "Do you think I'm leaning on her? That I can't walk on my own?"  
  
He wasn't sure if it was because he was so stressed out or because he was mentally unstable, but Mac almost seemed to nod at him.  
  
Trowa frowned, then sighed and leaned his back against the lion's warm stomach as he put his head back down on his paws for his nap. //I sawed my leg off...// he thought, looking down childishly at his legs. Catherine's analogy was almost too true. When he'd come here at first, before he'd loved Quatre and lost what strength he had at losing him, he hadn't needed or wanted anyone. He'd walked like a man all alone through the world. But the day that blonde boy had admitted to throwing his sanctity away to that disgusting bitch, Dorothy, he had indeed lost his ability to walk alone. He had immediately run back to Catherine, and why? Because he had needed someone to lean on...a crutch.  
  
She was right. He was using her as a crutch, because he couldn't walk on his own and he didn't want to get a prosthetic leg to lean on--something to replace his loss--knowing that he could depend on her to carry him more than anyone else--knowing that she wouldn't let him fall. He wouldn't replace Quatre in his heart by falling in love with anyone else, but he wasn't strong enough to try to walk without something to lean on. He was using his sister as a crutch, because he knew he could depend on her to never let him down the way Quatre had let him down.  
  
He slowly drew his knees into his chest and frowned, shutting his eyes. //A crutch,// he thought at last. //I have a crutch...because I can't walk on my own...//  
  
**** ~  
  
"Doodle!"  
  
"Hey! THERE'S my baby!" Duo laughed as he caught the flying five-year-old, then spun her around, holding her to his chest. "How are you, darlin'?"  
  
"I sawed you on the news today!"  
  
"Oh, you saw that too? I personally think that camera made me look kinda fat, but..."  
  
Katie shook her head. "No, you look pretty like always!"  
  
Heero rolled his eyes as he stepped into the house and slipped his sneakers off, then smiled as Katie leapt from Duo's arms and into his. "Hey kid, where's your Dad?"  
  
"He's in his office, workin' on the compooter."  
  
Duo frowned and stuck his hands on his hips. "Oh, no way, not AGAIN!"  
  
Katie nodded. "Uh-huh. He's real busy."  
  
"He's ALWAYS busy," Duo muttered, folding his arms, childishly.  
  
Heero rolled his eyes again and jabbed him with a finger in the shoulder, making him jump. "Grow up."  
  
"No," he pouted, rubbing his arm.  
  
The Perfect Soldier turned his attention back to the bouncy five-year-old in his arms. "So, Katie, why are you so excited?"  
  
"Wha did ya bring me? Wha did ya bring me?"  
  
"What gives you the idea that we brought you something?"  
  
She beamed. "B'cuz you always do!"  
  
"Of COURSE we do!" Duo exclaimed, burying his hand in his pocket and retrieving a little envelope. He set it in her hands. "Why wouldn't we want to spoil our only niece? Here ya go, open it up and tell me what you see."  
  
Heero set the girl down, then smiled as she fought with the sealed envelope for a minute before finally ripping the side off it. She was such a cute kid that she almost made him regret the fact that he and Duo couldn't have children. Then again, babies were a pain and children were expensive, so nieces were easier to have.  
  
"I see...papers. What's these?" she asked, holding up the slips of paper.  
  
" 'What are these,' you mean," Heero corrected.  
  
She nodded. "Ya, that."  
  
Duo knelt and took one from her, then began pointing to the letters. "Remember what I told you, you gotta learn to read for yourself. Now, sound it out."  
  
"K...K...er...k...us?"  
  
"That's a C, dear, with an S sound."  
  
"Oh...Sir...cuss? Circus? CIRCUS! CIRCUSCIRCUSCIRCUS!!!"  
  
Heero smirked as Duo was tackled to the floor by the little blonde girl, who looked ecstatic. Apparently she knew what a circus was! So, this much of the task was done, but there were still two parts to it that could gum up the plan quite easily.  
  
"You wanna go with us today, kiddo?"  
  
"YEAHYEAHYEAH!" she cried, bouncing to her feet in her cute little pajamas. Kneeling, she picked up the tickets. "Hmm...one...two...three...four. There's four tickets!" Then, she paused and frowned, cutely. "Why?"  
  
"Well," Duo said, grinning mischievously, "We're making your Dad come too."  
  
"YAY!"  
  
Heero's smile suddenly disappeared as he sensed the entrance of another presence into the room, a dark one. Slowly, he looked at Duo, who frowned and looked past him. He turned around. "Good morning, Dorothy."  
  
She was dressed as usual in expensive clothes with her recently cut hair curled around her ears and a suspicious expression on her face. She always looked like that, it seemed. "Heero. Duo. What a pleasant surprise."  
  
"Yeah, same here. What are YOU doing here?"  
  
"I happen to LIVE here."  
  
Heero nudged his koi, harshly, then cleared his throat. "We came to visit Quatre and Katie, if you don't mind."  
  
"I think I do," she said, scowling. Then, she put on a plastic smile. "BUT, seeing as though I have no choice in the matter, I guess I should welcome you properly."  
  
Duo picked Katie up as he stood, then suddenly, he too cracked a fake grin, but his was more convincing and less evil...well, actually, it was just AS evil! "We'll be borrowing your daughter for the day," he said. "Being that it's Saturday, we figured that we should take her off your hands so you can go shopping or something."  
  
"...What."  
  
"Yeah. After all, she wants to go somewhere besides the mall today and this won't cost her Daddy a penny." Duo narrowed his eyes on Dorothy, the toothy grin remaining in place, though Heero could see the spitefulness within it. "I don't think Quatre will mind."  
  
"Hn." Dorothy frowned, then all of them froze as footsteps from upstairs set them all on-guard.  
  
In no time flat, the overworked man of the house came down the stairs, still in a robe and pajamas, looking at least forty years older and in serious need of ANYTHING but this mansion, as far as Heero could see. He needed fresh air (and probably a shower), and he definitely DIDN'T need Dorothy constantly on his back, harping on him about this and that like the low, annoying creature that she was. Heero had secretly been investigating the supposed rape charges Dorothy had slapped the Winner heir with, and not just because it was fishy, but because he wanted to save the blonde millionaire from her. He really looked like he needed saving, now more than ever.  
  
This was why they had planned for it.  
  
Quatre paused and blinked a few times, then took off the reading glasses he was wearing and smiled. "Hey, guys. I didn't know you were visiting today."  
  
"Neither did I," Dorothy hissed under her breath. He looked down at her from his position on the staircase and frowned, then ignored her.  
  
Katie quickly scrambled out of Duo's grasp and leapt into Quatre's arms, giggling. "Hi, Dada!"  
  
"Hi, baby."  
  
"Hey-ya, Q, we here you're working," Duo said. "How about you take a break and come down to a show with Katie and us?"  
  
Quatre frowned. "I don't remember being asked about it."  
  
"Oh, puh-LEEEEEEEEEEEEZ, Dada! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE?!?!"  
  
"Yike! Okay! You can go."  
  
"But YOU have to come too!"  
  
Heero exchanged a glance with Duo as Quatre sighed and patted his daughter on the head. //He's going to say he has too much to do,// Heero thought.  
  
"I'm sorry, baby, but I have too much to do. I don't have time to go and play with you."  
  
Katie frowned a heartbreaking frown and looked at him with her eyes shining, but she didn't say anything. Heero could see it in Quatre's eyes that he was genuinely sorry, and he knew the Winner heir too well to think anything else. He knew that, if he could, Quatre would drop everything to play with his daughter, but he was just too responsible.  
  
Thank God for people like Duo, whose motto in life was, "I'll do it later."  
  
"Katie..."  
  
She tugged his sleeve and he set her down, and without a word to him, she turned to the waiting uncles and forced a pretty smile. "I'm gonna get dressed, then we can go."  
  
Heero nodded and Duo tried to smile back at her, but he couldn't manage it. They could both see how sad father and daughter were at the absence of the other. Too bad it was unavoidable. Both watched as she headed up the stairs.  
  
Moments later, her dog ran up after her, nearly tripping Quatre.  
  
Dorothy growled. "KATHERINE! WHAT IS THAT MUTT DOING IN THE HOUSE?!"  
  
Duo snickered and Heero rolled his eyes as a very quick, "Sorry, Mama!" erupted from the hallway leading to Katie's bedroom followed by an "ARF!" and a slamming door. The girl was one indomitable toddler, that was for sure.  
  
"I let her bring the dog in," Quatre said, pinning Dorothy with a weary stare. "It's not doing anything bad."  
  
"That creature messes up the rooms, pees on the carpets and tortures my poor Tabitha! If THAT isn't BAD I don't know what is!" She growled, then leered up at him. "If it makes a mess, YOU'LL clean it up!"  
  
He nodded, obediently, although Heero could see the slightest hint of a smirk pulling at the left corner of his mouth, and all three ex-pilots watched as the blonde-haired battle-ax stormed off, steaming. The moment she was gone, he grinned. "Hence why we have a MAID, and if all else fails, blame it on the cat."  
  
Duo laughed. "Wow, man, you're slick!"  
  
"No, just resourceful," Quatre sighed. "I have a meeting to get back to, so if you'll forgive me, guys, I have to go."  
  
"Quatre," Heero said, sternly. He watched as the blonde's wavy hair seemed to straighten at the sound of his voice echoing off the open marble staircase. He paused in mid-step and Heero looked at Duo, who hastily got the message.  
  
"Uh, I'm gonna go...watch TV. Hell, y'all got several thousand channels-- SOMETHING has to be on, eh heh...bye." He made a hasty retreat.  
  
Heero grasped the banister and started up the stairs toward the still blonde aristocrat, a frown on his face. "That computer is ruling your life," he said. "You should try to take a break and spend some time with your daughter."  
  
"I can't do anything to get away, Heero, you know that," Quatre sighed, grasping the banister for support and holding his forehead with his other hand. "I've tried, but...I just can't cancel anything I've got going right now. I'm booked for the next few months with meetings, speeches, conventions...I just can't." He started up the stairs.  
  
Heero leered narrowly at the back of his head, and Quatre seemed to stiffen in his stride as he did so, as if feeling the soldier's cold eyes scalding him. "Oh, I see," he said, offhandedly, "I guess it's all right to be busy. After all, nothing's more important than your business, and you've got BABYSITTERS to play Daddy for your child. Why should YOU have to spend time with a sweet little girl?"  
  
"HEY!" the blonde shouted, turning on the stairs and leering down at him. "Don't you pin me with that, Heero Yuy, I CARE about my daughter and I would KILL to be able to spend time with her, but the fact is, I, like everyone else, have bills to pay, food to buy, and, unfortunately, responsibilities that I can't duck away from! If I could, I would, but I haven't got any TIME!"  
  
"I know that," he retorted, unaffected by the outburst of his friend. "I never said I was father of the year--I doubt I'll ever BE a father--but I happen to know for a fact that there is a little girl up in her room right this second that thinks the world of you. Out of every person in this universe that knows your name, she is probably the only person that loves you for just being yourself despite your ignoring her, your constant need to be anywhere but with her. I was raised for a short time by a man that was supposed to be my father, and let me tell you, murderer or not, I loved him and I wanted his attention. I killed people just so he'd look at me. Would you like that to happen to your daughter, Quatre."  
  
"It WON'T happen to her! For Christ sake, Heero, give me a break! I'm trying!"  
  
"Trying ISN'T enough, Quatre. That little girl may love Duo and I, but she NEEDS her FATHER."  
  
Quatre turned away again, his fist closing on the banister railing. "Well, her father is working his ass into the ground right now to assure her financial and social stability in the future. If he was lazy, he would play with her, and believe me, he wants to, but...there aren't enough hours in the day."  
  
Heero sighed and shook his head. "You remember that you said it, not me."  
  
"Said what."  
  
"That you have no time for your daughter."  
  
"I didn't--!"  
  
"What did you just say, Quatre?"  
  
The blonde paused and looked back at him, an unreadable expression crossing his face. "...Heero, please..."  
  
"Go to your meeting, we'll keep Katie out of your hair."  
  
Quatre was silent as he headed back to his study, passing a hyperactive Katie on the way.  
  
The little blonde girl came skipping down the stairs in an oversized, hand- knit pink sweater with a V-neck, her tan-khaki leggings and her zip-up cargo vest, fuzzy and purple. Her hair was back in a cute little ponytail, her wispy bangs splayed out across her forehead and her face split into a big grin as she skipped down the steps. She was adorable, and Heero realized with a smirk just how much she looked like a badly-dressed Quatre. The resemblance was uncanny. "I'm ready, Hero!" she cried, grinning.  
  
He smiled and picked her up, then handed her the circus ticket. "You look fabulous."  
  
She beamed. "I know!" As he carried her back to the living room to pick up Duo, she looked at the ticket and blinked. "Tree-knee-tie? That's a funny name for a circus."  
  
"Trinity, dear."  
  
"Oh. That's pretty, then. I like that. What are we gonna see at the circus?"  
  
Duo relieved him of the talkative five-year-old as they headed out to Heero's motorcycle. "Animals, and jugglers, and...knife-throwers with red hair..."  
  
"And hopefully, a sad clown that walks a tightrope."  
  
Katie blinked. "Why would a clown be sad?"  
  
Heero smirked as he handed her the custom-made pink motorcycle helmet. "Because he's lonely, but maybe he won't be sad anymore, once he meets YOU."  
  
She beamed. "I can make ANYBODY happy!" she exclaimed. She stuck the helmet on.  
  
Heero exchanged a glance with Duo, who had just strapped on his own black helmet and handed the perfect soldier's to him. "We know."  
  
"That's what we're countin' on, baby!"  
  
As the motorcycle roared and kicked into life, taking off down the damp street with the five-year-old girl pinned between the gun-toting driver and braided passenger, her father sat high above in his study, oblivious to the evil scheme they were cooking up. Oh yes, one clown was going to get one HELL of a surprise, and one aristocrat was going to be taking a trip to a side-show to make sure of it--that is, if Heero and Duo had anything to do with it!  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued  
  
Xandra: So, wha'cha think? Like it? Review, people, review! 


	3. King of the High Wire

Xandra: Sorry about the long chapter last time (it was a must) but this one is a little shorter. OOC Quatre in this, but I think it's justified all things considered. (YOU imagine living as a gorgeous millionaire trapped with DOROTHY as a wife with NO sex [by your own choice], no freedom and a LOT of caffeine in your system and see how nice YOU are!) Also, some animal bashing (hee hee, I'm evil). That is all. ^_^ Enjoy!  
  
****  
  
My Little Katie  
  
By Xandra  
  
Chapter Two: King of the High Wire  
  
****  
  
"I've never been to a circus before!" Katie cried as Duo lifted her off the motorcycle and set her on her feet. Heero accepted the helmets back and hooked them to the seat behind him, then revved the engine and took the black bike off to park it.  
  
"First time for everything, baby," Duo said, eyeing his lover astride the Harley. Sometimes he wondered if Heero loved that bike more than he loved the braided baka himself, but then again, he didn't sleep with his bike-- not yet, anyway. It got to the point that Duo was starting to question the soldier's attachment. He'd probably marry the damn thing if he could! Thank God for common-law marriage! He kissed the ring on his finger for luck, then looked down at Katie, who was spinning on the heels of her little penny-loafers. She wanted to see everything there was to see, he could tell, and she was loving every moment of it--and they weren't even inside yet! Smiling, he set a hand on her head and looked up at the familiar red- and-yellow-stripped tent. "Wha'cha think, kid?"  
  
"It's great!" she exclaimed, clapping excitedly. Then, she paused and looked up at him, taking his hand in both of hers by gripping his pinkie and thumb, cutely. "Mama says a circus is a bad thing with stupid, tacky people in it, where idiots pay to see animals run around like dumb things for peanuts and embarrass themselves. Is that true, Doodle?"  
  
//Dorothy is SUCH a...damn! It should be illegal to be that much of a bitch!// He smiled down at her, throwing his braid back over his shoulder. "No, honey, it's not. A circus is a place for people to go and be entertained by talented people and their special pets."  
  
"Oh," she said, beaming. "I thought so!"  
  
Heero strode up, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. "Ready?"  
  
"Yeah!" Katie cheered, happily. Her joy was contagious, because suddenly, Duo's already bubbling excitement sparked by the scheme he and his koi had concocted became impossible to contain. "Let's go! Let's go!"  
  
Duo sent Heero a curious glance, then beamed as his stoic love smiled at him, warming his heart. Grabbing his hand, the braided man allowed the blonde girl to drag he and his love to the tent. "Think this'll work?" he whispered to Heero.  
  
He nodded. "If Trowa doesn't spot her when he's on the tightrope, we'll just have to go backstage after the show and perform introductions. She's already said that she wants to make him smile, and knowing him, he'll be so stunned he won't be able to argue or run."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Whispering is rude, Doodle!" Katie said, scoldingly, giving his finger a mean little squeeze.  
  
He smirked. "Oww! Hey, be nice to me!"  
  
"Stop whispering back there!" she said.  
  
He nodded, then looked at Heero, who smirked at him. "I sorry, Katiekins."  
  
"S'okay, but behave yourselfs! We's in public!"  
  
Duo smiled, then allowed Katie to drag he and Heero into the large tent, where they quickly found their seats--at the very top of the stands, nearest one of the tightrope's anchor posts. That way, if Trowa did his act, he wouldn't miss them...especially not Katie. Her sense of style was pure serendipity--she looked just like a little Quatre in her leggings, sweater, vest, penny-loafers and ponytail--and it was almost absolutely certain that Trowa would spot her for that reason. Luck was with them!  
  
Katie sat between her two uncles and fidgeted as the music started for the show to begin, and she cheered as synthetic fireworks went up right in the tent (which was perfectly safe because they were laser lights with sound effects). "Ooh! Pretty!" she cheered, clinging to Duo's arm. "Is it ALL gonna be this pretty?"  
  
"I'm sure it will," he said, smiling over her head at Heero, who smirked in return.  
  
Suddenly, a light focused on a spot in the center ring far below them, shifting from red to purple to blue and back, and with an explosion of sparkling smoke, a form appeared, dressed in a metallic, tri-colored suit to match the light with a large top-hat on its head. At first, it looked like a man, but as the light suddenly turned gold and the performer removed the hat, the feminine body became apparent, and the face of Catherine Bloom was revealed. Her image came up on a large screen at the head of the tent for those who couldn't see. Her lovely face was painted by pale makeup, with metallic eyeshadow and lipstick in glittering colors of blue, purple and red that made her look funny, pretty and exotic at the same time. Reaching into the top-hat, she brought a microphone from the recesses and tossed it aside, her curls bouncing exuberantly as the lights and effects exploded all around her, astonishingly.  
  
//Wow, they really jazzed it up!// Duo thought, recalling the old days when Trowa had worked here as a simple clown, wearing a freakishly goofy outfit. The most high-tech thing they had owned back then was a spotlight! NOW they had laser effects, cameras, music and all of that cool stuff!  
  
"Welcome, one and all, boys and girls of ALL ages!" she cried, striking up excitement in the crowd. "I am Catherine Bloom, and this, my friends, is by far the oldest and greatest show in the universe! We of the Trinity bid you welcome to our home, and we pray you will enjoy our performance! Remember, though, as you watch our show, that the truth in what you see is never certain--and our secret lies behind a glittery curtain." She paused, then laughed. "Hey, I'm a poet and I didn't even know it! Ha!"  
  
The crowd laughed and Duo smiled to himself. She hadn't changed very much.  
  
"Enjoy the show, folks!"  
  
**** ~  
  
Quatre sat back in his chair and took another sip of his coffee, then sighed deeply as his study door opened. //What does she want now?// he thought, wearily, removing his reading glasses, //Hasn't my day been depressing enough?//  
  
Of course, the indomitable Dorothy Catalonia swept into the room, dressed in her usual expensive attire that hurt his eyes to look at. Her taste had been creative before he'd had to live with her and experience it every day-- now it was plain out tacky and more than a little annoying. "Oh QUAAAATREEE!" she sang, shrilly.  
  
He gritted his teeth, sighing. "YES Dorothy," he asked, tonelessly. He'd discovered through the years that shouting at her was useless because she'd find some way to make him feel like scum, some way to make him miserable, so he'd given up and started greeting her with stoicism. It was the best approach.  
  
"I'm redecorating the mansion this week, dear, so I'm going to need your credit card to go shopping," she began.  
  
He rolled his eyes. //I sense I'm being fucked over again,// he thought, aggravatedly. It was a good thing he was a multi-billionaire or he'd be broke by now. Five years and she had already spent about an eighth of his wealth on her strange tastes. "I thought you just redecorated a month ago."  
  
"Oh, I did, but it's getting so old after a month."  
  
//God, Allah, Buddha, Kami, someone save my soul...// Sighing, he produced his visa and presented it to her, only to have it ripped from his fingers almost painfully. "Is that all or do you have more requests?" he asked, coldly.  
  
She pouted. "Oh, you're so mean. You should loosen up!"  
  
//Sort of hard when I've got paperwork backed up to the colony, a migraine that would take all the Tylenol in the universe to get rid of for five minutes, a wife that scorches a hole in my wallet and no sex life to speak of--because God is merciful. You be me and try to loosen up.// He waved a dismissing hand and set his glasses on the bridge of his nose, then ran a hand wearily through his tousled hair and went back to his figuring.  
  
He was not only the CEO of Winner Resources and about ten branches of that business, but he was also the accountant (since the prior one had been so dumb as to try and rip him off a few thousand a month). Between paperwork, Dorothy, Katie, Katie's school, bills, meetings, health and safety inspections of all of his buildings and satellites, and tax season's hasty approach, Quatre was swamped. Sure, his personal assistance, Lawrence Phychr, was a great burden-lifter (the boy had started as an intern and ended up proving that he was a secretary/hacker, a file manager, a business negotiator and a damn good coffee maker) but he needed more help. Hell, he needed all the gods that existed to save him from this! So much stress could NOT be healthy!  
  
Dorothy swept from the room with his card in her hands, and Quatre waved bye-bye to any thoughts of ever seeing THAT particular one ever again. The woman was like a paper-shredder--put something useful in her clutches and she'll return it worthless, if she returned it at all. Well, at least she was easy to get rid of. His headaches were bad when she was gone, but if she were actually in LOVE with him and insisting on intimacy, the Winner lord would have to have himself committed to an insane asylum.  
  
He sighed as he stamped his signature onto another document (Lawrence was such a handy kid that he had actually had a stamp made with Quatre's exact signature on it, saving him the trouble of writing it). //That would be good right about now,// he thought. //An insane asylum...with a nice, quiet rubber room and a straight jacket...yes sir, that would be heaven. Silence, no Dorothy, no work to worry about, no Heero giving me fathering speeches...//  
  
/'You remember you said that, not me...that you have no time for your daughter.'/  
  
His mind trailed off and he smacked his head against the desk, knocking his glasses right off and onto the floor. //Damn it...I can't help it...// he thought, tears threatening once more. //I wanna hang out with the guys and my baby, but I can't...I have so much to do that I'm lucky to sleep at night...I just...//  
  
Katie's little voice echoed in his head. /'But YOU have to come too!'/  
  
//I wanted to...// he thought, sadly, //I wanted to be the one to take you there, but I just can't honey...I wish you could understand.// Slowly, Quatre pulled his head from the surface of the expensive redwood desk and looked across it at the stand-up frame with the picture of he and Katie in it at the park, she hanging off his arm with a big grin on her face. As he stared at it, a memory numbed his mind.  
  
[\\"Father, can't you come see?" a young, pale-haired boy had asked the man behind the desk, the man he barely knew. "I can play the piano, don't you want to see?"  
  
"I haven't the time, Quatre. Go show your sister."  
  
"She's busy," the boy murmured, sadly. "Can't you just come see?" Upon receiving no response, he became desperate. It was so rare that his father was home, and he wanted him to just tell him that he was a good child--he wanted him to be proud of him. No one noticed him, but maybe if he could so much as get a real, genuine 'that's nice' everything would be okay. "I can play a minute waltz in thirty seconds! I can play blindfolded, even, and not miss a note! Not one!" No response, and the boy felt tears in his eyes. "Please, just come watch me play!"  
  
"Damn it, Quatre, I have too much to do. Go entertain yourself. God knows, I buy you enough things to keep you occupied." His father looked up from the stack of paperwork, massaging his temples. "I haven't the time now, maybe later."  
  
The young boy sighed and turned to leave, then paused as a recent picture caught his eye. It was of he and his father at the park. He remembered being so happy then, and it was only a year ago. What happened? Why had everything changed? Sadly, he left. //He doesn't have time for me.// the poor child thought as he exited the room. //No one has time for me...// \\]  
  
Quatre stared blankly at the picture of himself and Katie, words ringing through his head painfully.  
  
/'I haven't the time, Quatre.'/  
  
//Oh God...//  
  
/'You remember you said that, not me...that you have no time for your daughter'/  
  
[\\"Dada! Wanna see what I can do? I can play the piano thingy! I do good, too! Come see!"  
  
Not glancing up from his paperwork, Quatre nodded his head. "That's nice, honey, Dada's busy right now."  
  
"But I want you to see!" she whined.  
  
He shook his head. Too much to do, no time to play around. He had work to do. "I haven't the time, Katie."  
  
"Please? Please, Dada! I want you to see what I can do!"  
  
"Show your mother."  
  
"She's busy! I can play songs, even with my eyes closed though it's not that good! Please, come watch me, just for a sec!"  
  
That did it. "Katie!" Quatre said, loudly, silencing his daughter. "I said no. I have too much to do--I haven't the time now, maybe later."\\]  
  
"No..." he whispered, staring at the picture, forlornly. It couldn't be, it was too sickening...  
  
Slowly, he lifted himself from his chair and stumbled from the study, carrying himself awkwardly into the bathroom. He splashed water into his face to wash away the sweat that had broken out across his pale brow, then stared at himself in the mirror, his hair standing out in all directions terribly, his eyes reddened by lack of sleep and endless crying. He was so pale and thin, unhealthy, and he looked awful.  
  
The truth hit him like a semi. "I've become my father."  
  
/'I haven't the time, Quatre.'/  
  
"Heero was right," he whispered to himself, staring at his reflection. "I'm a terrible father...I..." he swallowed, then leered at himself, "I don't deserve Katie..."  
  
His stressed-out, pained condition added to this awful revelation brought his anger to a peek, and with an almost animalistic cry, he hauled back and punched the mirror, destroying the smooth surface. Shards of it caught in his knuckles as he pulled them away, but he hardly noticed as he watched the chunks of glass tumble into the marble sink with an unattractive crashing, almost like church chimes struck much too hard. They crashed and shattered.  
  
Still in a dazed rage, Quatre stumbled from the bathroom, and the next thing he knew, he was on the couch in the living room, the television remote seated in his lap as he worked the pieces of glass from his hand. He was sitting awkwardly, feet up on the expensive coffee table, legs spread, the cape of his robe spread across the sofa beneath him like a cloak, eyes half crossed and a scowl in place as he watched little red rivers trickle from the developing holes in his knuckles. It had been a while since he'd been that angry, but now he was cooling down somewhat. He was just depressed again, now, so he was ready to veg out for a while. What better way to get rid of stress than to kill brain-cells?  
  
It was on the news for some stupid reason, but excluding Teletubbies and Sesame Street, there was nothing else on, so he listened dully to it as he picked shining shards from his fist, springing new leaks heedlessly. "Damn mirror," he murmured, grouchily. "Geez...and it goes cutting my hand like that...cheap piece of shit is just supposed to break, not cut me..."  
  
"In other news," the telecaster was saying. It was Midii Une still. (He felt REALLY sorry for HER--his job sucked, HERS was worse. After all, they both did shitty things, but she only got paid seventeen fifty and hour for it.) She looked just as tired as he felt, and it was almost noon. "Business icon, Quatre Rabarba Winner--"  
  
"Jesus, famous and they always mess up the last name," he muttered, rolling his eyes.  
  
"--Is making quite the nuisance of himself on Wallstreet this afternoon. Winner stock shot up another twenty-seven points today--surprise, surprise-- and needless to say, his enemies at Conquest Enterprises are not happy."  
  
Quatre shook his head. "Walker Conquest and his slutty secretary can kiss my ass," he hissed, "Not like HE works thirty-hour works days to go home to a wife that redecorates his house every month or so as a pretense to spend his money. NO, HE lives on a colony with a harem of women and all his money while other people run his business because he's a dumbass." He paused. "I'm talking to myself again, aren't I? Damn it, I need to get a parrot or something--so I don't sound so unstable. God knows I'm NOT stable, as if a Winner ever COULD be--I'm still doing it. STOP!" He sighed. "And I'm shouting at myself. God, someone kill me."  
  
At that remark, an amazingly fat gray cat came running into the room, screeching terribly as a blonde, curly-haired puppy came bolting in after it. It leapt right into his lap, claws an all.  
  
Quatre winced, then pulled Tabitha off the front of his pajamas, holding her up by the scruff of her neck while placing a bare foot against Fluffy's head to keep him at bay. He looked up at the ceiling, scowling. "Okay, I said kill me, not castrate me. Ha ha, very funny." He looked at the huge mass of fur-covered fat with whiskers, "And what's YOUR problem?"  
  
She yowled as Fluffy made a jump for her.  
  
Quatre suddenly smirked, feeling amazingly cruel suddenly, smirked at the cat, then looked at his daughter's puppy, "You want it, boy?"  
  
Tabitha shut up instantly, but Fluffy was nothing but noise.  
  
He grinned at the evil cat, then hauled back and pitched his dear wife's pet across the room. "Fetch, Fluffy!"  
  
"REEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOWWWWW!"  
  
"ARF ARF ARF ARF!!!" And both were gone.  
  
Chuckling coldly, Quatre leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. "Oh yeah, reality's a bitch, eh Tabby?" he called after the screaming cat. "Welcome to my life."  
  
Suddenly, Quatre's cruel and entertained state disappeared with a cold convulsion as Midii, who had been reporting for the last few moments nonstop, uttered a name that stopped his heart.  
  
"--Triton Bloom--"  
  
"TROWA?!" he practically shrieked, leaping across the room and grabbing the television. Sure enough, the moment he uttered the name, a picture of a certain familiar Silencer and his redheaded sister appeared on the screen, and all sounds--the yowling and barking, shattering of pricy items of décor, the droning of the tired news anchor--faded into the background. Quatre stared in awe at the form before him. He knew it was Trowa...he would know him anywhere...but he looked so different now.  
  
The boy he had known as a teenager, stoic and silent--the boy he had loved-- had been pale, gaunt and gloomy...but now, now he was a god. His eyes scanned languishingly over seeming miles of toned muscles and golden flesh, slid over the plane of now sun-kissed, golden-copper hair (which there was now much more of), and locked on the deep jade eyes that had haunted his dreams for years. It was really him, but he had changed so drastically...and yet, he knew it was him--those eyes, that face, that awful scowl, all of it was so irrefutably Trowa that it HAD to be him.  
  
Was Midii still talking? What on earth could possibly be more important than Trowa?  
  
"--a very level-headed man' says the president of the CAASA foundation, Blayne Andrews, who, in fact, is the very man in charge of shutting circuses down. 'Mr. Bloom proved us wrong in our beliefs that the Trinity was an animal slave-trade...indeed, his animals are no more slaves than his friends themselves, the workers of the circus, and we of CAASA sincerely extend a thank-you to the man that opened our eyes to the truth.' Coming from Mr. Andrews, one of the greatest naturalists ever to live, this is QUITE an astonishing commendation--"  
  
"Oh Trowa," Quatre whispered, faintly. "You've been busy, ne...?"  
  
Fluffy bolted up behind him, shocking him out of his reverie. "Arf!"  
  
"Huh?" He blinked a few times, then looked down at the puppy, whose mouth was now full of gray fuzz. "Fluffy, did you eat Tabitha?" he asked, weakly.  
  
The dog shook his head, then sneezed, and out came a huge ball of fur.  
  
Quatre winced, then looked up as a half-bald tabby cat came stumbling in. "Ugh. At least she isn't dead."  
  
Fluffy took off after the beaten cat, who was gone in an instant with a scream.  
  
The blonde turned his attention back to the television, frowning as he realized that Midii was talking again and the picture was gone. The shock of seeing Trowa again was wearing off and giving way to a sickening depression that was making him ill, and as he sunk back to the floor, ignoring the chaos reining around him, he closed his eyes, fighting the inevitable tears. That was the one thing that could have made his life worse--Trowa, the man that he had (and still) loved, in perfect health, successful, beautiful and further out of his reach than ever. It was crushing to think. The part of him that was ever the martyr, the one that loved everyone and everything and wished nothing but the best for others, wanted him to be happy for his secret love--after all, if anyone deserved happiness and success in this life, it was Trowa--but the childish bitterness in him, the part that was still throwing a tantrum over losing him, was making him miserable.  
  
//He's happy,// one side said. //He has money, friends, a place to belong and he's probably already found HIS true love, so why pity yourself when HE'S found happiness? What more could you wish for him?//  
  
//SCREW him!// the other side shrieked, angrily. //What about YOU?! All you do is suffer and work and suffer some more, fearing the day when Dorothy asks you to sleep with her, the day when Katie grows up and leaves you with this bitch, and for what? Nothing! Do YOU ever get what you want? NO! YOU should have Trowa all to yourself, idiot! You should have confessed when you had the chance! STUPID! Who CARES if he's happy?! YOU could make him happier, and you wouldn't be miserable if you weren't such a MORON!//  
  
He fisted handfuls of his hair, ignoring the stinging of his bleeding fist as he sat on his knees in front of the television, tears pouring down his cheeks. "DAMN ME!" he shouted, forlornly.  
  
WHY? Why was it ALWAYS HIM that had to suffer? Why couldn't he find happiness? What was WRONG with the world that he could NEVER really escape the evils of it? Would he ALWAYS have to suffer this way? WHY did God HATE him so much?!  
  
He looked up as Midii repeated the name that plagued his mind, staring through the tears at the man he had lost because of his own foolishness, agony gripping his chest. Childishly, he reached up and let his fingers graze the cold glass of the television screen, a sense of mental disorder compelling him to speak as if Trowa could really hear him. Something inside of him seemed to die, and at the exact same moment, something else seemed to bloom like a wildfire, painfully, making him wince as he stared at the form he knew so well from his tortured dreams. "Trowa..." he whispered, despairingly, clutching the front of his shirt with his other hand as the pain flared up again. He smiled, sadly. "I wonder...maybe that's why I hurt so much without you...because you stole my heart, and how can someone live without their heart...?" He sighed, tearfully. "I should have told you...but I'll say it now...I love you, Trowa...I love you..."  
  
~  
  
"Trowa!"  
  
The green-eyed man ignored the calls of his sister as he sat on his knees in full costume, clutching the discarded newspaper clipping in his hands with restrained tears glittering in his eyes. //I can't do this,// he thought. //I can't...//  
  
"Trowa, where ARE you?"  
  
//I can't. I won't, I refuse.//  
  
The curtains parted and Catherine paused in the doorway, peering into the darkness of the storage area. "Triton Bloom, if you are sulking again with five minutes until you're supposed to perform, I swear I will strip you down, paint you pink and kick you out into that ring buck naked, I mean it."  
  
Trowa almost smiled, but the gesture failed and he sighed, softly, tucking the clipping under a crate to hide it and setting his hands on the ground. "I'm here," he said, faintly, "But I'm not sulking...just thinking..."  
  
"Well, that's enough thinking, Trowa," she said, flatly, putting her hands on her hips. "You're supposed to be out there soon and I can't stall much longer. Damn it, these people came to see YOU if anyone, you dork, so stop giving excuses and get UP!"  
  
He shook his head. "Catherine...I don't want to perform."  
  
She gasped. "WHAT?"  
  
"You heard me," he sighed. "I...I can't do it anymore. Send someone else out in my place."  
  
"But there IS no one else, Trowa! You're the top act, everyone wants to see YOU!"  
  
He shook his head again, lowering his eyes as she approached, casting her shadow over him. "I won't."  
  
"You WILL!" she shouted. "You are NOT going to throw another fit and disappoint your fans just because you're having issues!"  
  
"You don't understand," he hissed.  
  
"I DO understand! It's that damn boy again, Quatre Winner, and I swear, if he ruins ONE MORE SHOW for us, I will do something crazy like ASSASSINATE HIM!" She fisted a handful of his hair and pulled him to his feet, then turned him around, pulling him down by his shoulder to her level (being that he had a foot on her at least). "Trowa, you can sulk all you want when we're on the road, but when we are doing shows you have to suck it up and do your part! I feel for you, really I do, but when your depression threatens the show I have to put my foot down!" She looked at her watch, then turned her wrist to show him the time, practically smacking him in the face with it. "Now you have ONE MINUTE and if you don't haul ass I will be getting mean."  
  
He sighed, nodding weakly, then dusted himself off and cracked his knuckles. "Fine."  
  
Catherine looked at her watch, then sighed and put her glittery top-hat back on. "Trowa, you know I love you, little brother, but you have to take responsibility. Be ready."  
  
He watched her walk away, then ran a hand through his bangs and sighed, closing his eyes. //Why me...//  
  
~  
  
Katie continued to bounce in her seat as Catherine Bloom reappeared in the center ring. "This is so neato!" she cried, excitedly.  
  
Heero nodded, smirking over at Duo as his love mussed the girl's feathery hair. "Isn't it?"  
  
"And it's about to get even MORE neato," Duo chuckled, holding up his program. He gestured to the name on the roster following the snake charmer's act and Heero nodded. "A man's gonna walk on a tightrope next."  
  
"Wha's a tightrope?"  
  
Duo pointed to the two main pillars standing one each in the center of the two outer rings, indicating the thin wire stretched between them. "That."  
  
She gasped. "Oh, that's HIGH! What if he falls down?! Will somebody catch him?!"  
  
Heero shook his head, frowning slightly. "No, Katie, he doesn't HAVE anyone to catch him..." She looked up at him, as did Duo--with more meaning in his stare--and he offered them both a weak smile. "But don't worry...he doesn't know how to fall anyway."  
  
Duo nodded, solemnly, and Katie blinked, but didn't say anything. They all turned their attention to the center ring as Catherine Bloom continued to rile the crowd.  
  
"Now, for our grand finale! I'm sure you've all had fun this afternoon, and what else are we for but fun...however, now for your own personal entertainment, we will thrill you like no other. You'll only see it here at the Trinity Traveling Circus--for no other circus in the business can do it like we can."  
  
Catherine beamed, then strode to the center of the ring, sighing dramatically as floaty piano music began to play.  
  
"Before I introduce him, however, I'm going to share a little background of the Trinity with you of the audience. Believe it or not, it was his parents- -and mine, I might add--that first helped to get the hundred-and-twenty- year-old Trinity Circus off the ground back in the old days, almost thirty years ago, and they stared as the headliners for the show: the Flying Blooms! Yes, trapeze and tightrope working have been the backbone of the circus since the beginning, and that's why our current closing act decided to take a cue from Mom and Dad, God rest them." She sighed, dreamily, then laughed over the soft, floaty music. "Well, who thinks I've stalled long enough?"  
  
The crowd cheered and Katie jumped up on the bench, giggling and clapping between her uncles, who smiled in good humor. "Yay! C'mon, I wanna see the man that can walk the rope!"  
  
"Well..." she put a finger to her chin, huffing, "Maybe...huh, maybe he doesn't have to come out yet. I mean, he's been a little blue lately so maybe we should just CANCEL the show!"  
  
A roar of boos filled the tent.  
  
Catherine laughed, then looked off to the side, toward the curtained backstage, as a green spotlight flickered on and turned to point to it. "Oh, THERE he is! Oh?" She smirked and put her hands on her hips. "Looks like SOMEONE'S being bashful! Maybe we SHOULD cancel!"  
  
Even MORE booing.  
  
"Hear that, bro? I think you're in demand!" She frowned again, then turned and lifted her hands. "C'mon, ya wanna see him? Better convince him, people!"  
  
Heero smirked and covered Katie's ears as a deafening explosion of cheers rang out. Duo plugged his ears, laughing.  
  
Catherine beamed again, then looked off-stage with a laugh. "Ready now? Okay!" She cleared her throat and waved to the audience as the lights changed from blue, red and purple to deep green and gold. "I think you did it!"  
  
More fanfare, even louder, and Katie giggled. "I can't hear, but it's funny anyway!"  
  
"Now...in~troducing...MY baby brother...the ONE, the ONLY, Triton Bloom, the Acrobat King of the High Wire!"  
  
As the applause broke out and the shouts, cheers and whistles became overpowering, Duo stepped up onto the bench for a clearer view, taking Katie up into his arms. Sighing, Heero followed suit. After all, it had been a long time since he had seen Trowa, and the Latin youth had been a close friend to him, almost closer than his lover in some respects. He wanted to be able to see him.  
  
The man that stepped into the center ring with Catherine was almost too much to take in with just one glance. He was roughly six-foot three inches, much taller than even Heero, dressed in jade green spandex pants with golden tiger stripes going up the legs and matching straps crossing over his bare, muscular chest in an X like ammunition belts. His skin was tanned, and his copper hair was golden highlighted, worn in a familiar style like a curved-in claw over the right side of his face, but as he strode, bathed in his spotlight, the slightest hint of a ponytail could be spotted swinging between his shoulderblades. His left ear was pierced by a gaudy golden hoop, and over the right side of his thin profile, nearly hidden by his bangs, was half of a clown mask with a big smile that contrasted with the stern expression he wore. It was almost like looking at another person, but it was undeniably the zero-three pilot.  
  
Before Heero could even gasp, Duo exploded. "Holy Christ on fire!" he shrieked. "DAMN, Heero, LOOK at him! Is THAT really TROWA?!"  
  
"It couldn't be anyone else," he said, allowing the slightest hint of a smile to curve his lips. Despite the changes, it was good to see Trowa again. Embarrassing as it was to admit it, he'd missed him.  
  
Katie blinked. "Hey, I seed him on the TV!" she exclaimed. Then, she frowned. "Oh, he still isn't smiling! Somebody should tickle him!"  
  
Heero shot Duo a warning look to keep him from making any comments there, and it worked, but he still received the customary mischievous smirk in return.  
  
Catherine patted his shoulder, and Heero, keen as his eyes were, was able to spot just how rough that pat was, enough to leave a red mark in its wake. Apparently, there was some friction between sister and brother. "Let's here it for the youngest Bloom, everyone!"  
  
The audience cheered and Trowa bowed in a fashion that was typically him, stepping gracefully back with one foot behind the other and bending at the waist, hands positioned strategically in the way of an old-style gentleman. Then, he headed out of the center ring and toward the pillar furthest from the stands.  
  
They both sat down as Catherine left the center ring for the sidelines and Trowa scaled the pole to the tightrope. The music changed from the soft piano music to something a little faster and jazzier, and as he took his place on the platform, slipping his shoes off and cracking his knuckles, Catherine continued to talk from the shadows.  
  
"Remember, ladies and gentlemen, do NOT try this at home. My brother is a trained professional, and you must realize that the stunts he will perform are very carefully practiced over and over again--however, they are no less DANGEROUS, and ONE SLIP could make me an only child, as you'll notice his lack of a net. He absolutely refuses to use one, which is yet another thing that makes him the greatest."  
  
Heero had never been to one of Trowa's shows before, but he had seen him pull a high wire stunt before in a tight spot, and from what he had heard from Duo, he was really good.  
  
Of course, to earn a title like King of the High Wire, he had to be adept at it.  
  
Trowa started his way onto the rope barefoot, and the moment he stepped onto it, the gasps began. Katie watched in awe, practically bouncing in her seat, as he made his way slowly across, looking almost bored. He made a show of it, splaying his arms out to either side and wobbling exaggeratedly as he went, though Heero knew just as well as Trowa himself did that he had done things like this before--in boots, fully dressed, carrying a backpack with his hands in his pockets. This was easy for him, but he was making it look hard for show, and it was working.  
  
"Wow," Katie whispered. "That's soooo neato..."  
  
Trowa continued across until he made it roughly to the center, then stopped faking it and stood upright, folding his arms and pausing a moment to check his fingernails. Half the audience snickered while the other half murmured about how dangerous it was, him being at least thirty-five to forty feet in the air and acting like it was no big thing. Then, he took one foot from the rope, balancing on the other, and bent over, grabbing it with one hand. With one quick movement, he flipped up onto that one hand right in the center of the rope and balanced, splaying his legs out and doing the splits in the air with his other hand fisted against his lower back.  
  
Heero blinked. He WAS good!  
  
Slowly, Trowa brought his legs up until they met, then leaned forward a bit, catching himself on his other hand. Now he was in a handstand on the wire, and the audience was having trouble keeping quiet. He continued across on his hands, balancing expertly and holding his weight up evenly in an almost impossible pose, for about another fourth of the rope, then stopped again and threw himself into the air, soaring so high it looked like he might hit the roof of the tent. He did a triple-axle with a half- twist and landed on his feet about a foot from the end of the rope, balancing perfectly on one foot, arms locked at his sides, other leg drawn up behind the first.  
  
The crowd exploded into loud applause as Trowa stood absolutely still on the tightrope, not having broken a sweat from his exertions of amazing strength and control. It really was him...no one else could possibly be so super-human.  
  
Duo and Heero exchanged glances as the audience gave him a standing ovation, then nodded. Trowa was damn close to them now, only a few feet above and about ten feet away--in the perfect position to see Katie. The braided man took his niece into his arms and stepped up onto the bench, then boosted her onto his right shoulder as Heero took a place next to him, ready to draw attention. As soon as the volume was down to an acceptable level, the soldier set his fingers to his mouth and whistled one long, shrill note...an old signal.  
  
Trowa, being as alert as his friend knew he was, subconsciously recognized the sound and looked right toward it--and the color drained from his face as his single visible eye locked on the blonde girl seated on Duo's shoulder.  
  
~  
  
//Oh no...// the acrobat thought, numbly, stepping back on the tightrope tensely as his eyes scanned the features of the adorable child. //It can't be...she...she CAN'T be...//  
  
But it was unquestionable. His eyes combed the young features, locking for extended amounts of time on the feathery blonde hair, upturned nose and wide, cerulean eyes. He wanted to deny it, he wanted to think it was his mind playing tricks on him, but he knew who this was, and the company she kept reassured him. Duo and Heero were with her, and that made it final.  
  
That was Quatre's daughter, the baby girl he had seen that day at the hospital five years ago...  
  
[\\She was beautiful--just looking at her made him want to smile--and she looked just like her father. She was so small...that much was almost haunting...and yet, it was absolutely undeniable. This was Quatre's daughter...and she was beautiful.  
  
Quatre tried to offer her to him, but he demurred with a muttered, "No," and continued to look at her. He carefully reached out to touch her hand, then blinked as she instantly grabbed his finger, looking up at him strangely.  
  
Something passed between them silently as her father stood there with the nurse, looking on in ignorance.  
  
And then, the baby stuck his finger in her mouth. He almost laughed at the odd sensation and the release of tense pressure in his chest as he peered down at her, entertained by the innocent, infantile action. She was such a sweet baby...  
  
...she was Quatre's baby...and DOROTHY'S...  
  
That shattered the small, glass shard of happiness within him. His eyes darted up to the blonde man's childlike features for just an instant, and he was thankful that Quatre didn't notice, but the ache that exploded inside of him was unbearable. The recurring realization that his little crush had slept with that terrible creature and created a child out of wedlock made him sick, and angry, and it hurt more than anything he had ever endured. He couldn't stand it.  
  
Taking his hand from the baby and, regrettingly, patted Quatre on his shoulder, then turned to go, shuddering as his name slipped softly from the blonde's lips, questioningly.  
  
"Trowa?"  
  
"It was nice seeing you again, Quatre," he lied. Nice? No, it was painful, and the smallest bit of hope he had been harboring was ripped from him as he left the room, drawing his cell phone from his pocket and hitting autodial to call Catherine.  
  
She answered in a heartbeat. "Trowa?"  
  
"Hi, Catherine. Tell the troupe I'll be back shortly."  
  
Pity dripped from her voice as she spoke, "I...I thought you'd be there longer..."  
  
As he passed the window, looking tentatively at father and daughter from the outside and feeling more outcast than ever, he answered instantly, anger and pain in his words as he left the Winner heir and his heart behind. "Yeah, well you thought wrong."\\]  
  
The world suddenly tilted then, and Trowa realized with a gasp that he had slipped off the tightrope, but with a quick, jerky motion, he caught it with one hand, barely managing to save himself before plummeting to his doom. With a gasping pant, he sighed, shuddering. //Holy God...//  
  
~  
  
"Did he fall?!" Katie exclaimed, hoping to see over the panicking crowd by squirming.  
  
Heero quickly took her down and sat her on the bench, sighing with relief. "No, he's okay." //That was close...//  
  
"Jesus Christ, he almost fell..." Duo hissed to him. "Did YOU think he'd react like that?"  
  
He didn't answer out of shame and his koibito's eyes narrowed on him, harshly. After a moment, he looked up at Trowa, who was still hanging from the rope by one hand. "I had a feeling...but at least Part A is complete."  
  
"Part wha?" Katie asked.  
  
Duo shushed her, then the two of them looked up as the audience suddenly calmed down.  
  
Heero blinked, then sighed. Unsurprisingly, Trowa was making the fall look like part of the act, hanging there with a smirk on his face while checking his wristwatch on his free hand. He watched as the acrobat flipped himself dangerously back onto the rope. He paused a moment, back to the crowd, then, slowly...looked back over his shoulder...and leered, right at Duo and Heero, his visible eye so narrow that it almost looked like a slit. Then, with a glorious fake smile, he stunned the entire crowd with a show of cartwheels and flips performed while running on the wire in the other direction, heading back to the other platform.  
  
"He's gonna kill us," Duo murmured, smirking darkly.  
  
"Most likely."  
  
"Well..." Duo's face broke into an evil grin, "All's fair in fated love and social war, eh, koi?"  
  
Heero smirked, slightly, then nodded. "Affirmative."  
  
"Heh heh, hey, Katiekins," Duo patted the girl on her head, "You wanna MEET that guy?"  
  
She blinked. "Um...I dunno," she sighed, looking down, "He looked at me and fell off...maybe I scareded him."  
  
Duo looked over her at Heero, who nodded, and the braided boy smirked. "I think WE scared him, babydoll."  
  
"Okay then!"  
  
The two evil uncles quickly scooped their niece up and made their way from the stands as Catherine Bloom began making a cover for her brother's near- fatal accident and began closing the show. Without pause, the trio exited the tent to go find Trowa.  
  
~  
  
//I can NOT believe this,// Trowa thought, tensely, as he planted himself on an unopened crate, surrounded by half the performers, all of whom were still in costume.  
  
"Vat ish going on? Vat is wrong with Tarowa?" Archibald looked down at Cassíme, who was wiping the intricate animal makeup from his face with a cloth.  
  
The fire-eater continued his task, scoffing. "He fell off the rope--first time ever, too. He looked ready to piss himself."  
  
Precious, Isabella's snake, snapped at the little Arabian threateningly, silencing him, then coiled himself back around her shoulders as she cooed over the shaken Latin acrobat.  
  
"Are you going to be okay, Trowa?" she whispered, "That was pretty close up there...but you covered it well..."  
  
"I'm fine," he lied. No, he wasn't fine. He was FAR from fine, after seeing the child of the one person he had been thinking about all day. It was almost sickeningly coincidental--and he didn't like it.  
  
In no time, Catherine came in, looking worried. The others all moved to allow his sister passage, and the moment she was within range, she grabbed him by his bare shoulders, giving him a hard shake. "Trowa, what happened?! Are you all right? You aren't HURT are you?"  
  
He stared up at her, glazed eyes scarcely able to take her in, but before she could go into a hysterical 'call the hospital' fit, he snapped out of it. "No, I'm okay...my hand hurts a little, but I should be fine..."  
  
She stared at him, hard, gripping his shoulders with such force that it hurt. With a dark look, she sent the others scattering, then turned on him. "You just froze up there! What HAPPENED?! You could have DIED, damn it, why did you DO that?!"  
  
"I..." He couldn't fathom what to say, so he said nothing at all, allowing his voice to trail off and leave him. What COULD he say? "I saw a little girl and she looked just like Quatre, so I stared at her and fell off, I'm sorry"? Not a chance! She'd ream him a new one! He shook his head, looking down at the horizontal rope-burn in his palm made by his catching the wire barehanded. //God, could it GET any worse?//  
  
Suddenly, a beam of sunlight broke through the dimness of the backstage tent, and as Trowa looked up, his heart stopped. There, standing in the entryway with the curtains pulled back and clutched in either hand, was Duo, and standing with him were Heero...and Quatre's daughter.  
  
//It just got worse.//  
  
Catherine looked up. "Excuse me, but it's against policies for audience members to--" she trailed off, then, as she recognized the two adults. "...Duo Maxwell? And Heero Yuy?" She looked down at him, "Trowa, look who-- "  
  
But he wasn't paying attention to her anymore. He was staring at the girl, and she was staring back, her little hands behind her back. She was dressed cutely in a fuzzy purple cargo vest, tan stretch-pants and a giant pink sweater that hung down to her mid-thighs, and she was bouncing on the heels of her dress-shoes excitedly. Just looking at her made him think of Quatre, the boy with the old-style fashion sense that had loved to dress similarly. The moment his eyes met hers, she beamed, gripping Heero's huge hand in her own little one and only managing to fist his index and middle fingers in her grip. He was absolutely stunned.  
  
"Hey, Tro!" Duo said, energetically, snapping him from his reverie. He looked at the braided man, noting that he hadn't changed, short of getting taller, and read through the seemingly harmless, friendly expression he wore, seeing right to the evil behind it. The moment his eyes hit him, he realized that the hyper zero-two pilot had SOMETHING running through his crooked mind. "Long time no see, buddy!"  
  
"Too long," Heero added. HE had changed. He was much taller, almost tall enough to rival the acrobat king himself, and running up and down his exposed, tan biceps and forearms in amazingly detained designs were artistic tribal tattoos, all in black like distorted iron spikes. One on his right shoulder was woven to form a black skull with fangs and another twined into a twisted rose shape. His build was even more impressive than before, and he looked rougher, but in the same sense, there was something much more free in his eyes, much more gentle and happy, accepting of his fate. He had finally dropped his emotionless façade. "Hi Trowa."  
  
Catherine beamed. "HI guys!" she exclaimed. "Wow, great to see you two again!"  
  
Duo grinned. "You too, Cathy. Just as beautiful as ever."  
  
"From a gay man, that isn't a compliment."  
  
"BISEXUAL, thank you very much," Duo retorted. Heero pinned him with a bitter look, then, and he chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Well, marginally. Still, you look good. So do you, Tro." He suddenly beamed, and that underlying evil shone through again.  
  
Catherine didn't see it (she wasn't trained to), but she DID see the blonde girl standing between the two ex-pilots. She knelt down. "OH, and who's THIS? Did you two adopt?"  
  
"Oh no," Heero said, shaking his head. "We're babysitting for...a friend."  
  
Trowa felt his inborn sixth sense for danger go off, but it was danger of a sort that he wasn't accustomed to--the kind that DIDN'T attack the body. //Why do I have the feeling...//  
  
"Oh?" Catherine smiled, taking the girl's hand. "What's your name, sweetie?"  
  
The girl beamed, beautifully, and once again he remembered her father--and it hurt. "I'm Katherine Iria Winner, but YOU can call me Katie!" she exclaimed.  
  
His sister blinked. "Katherine? WINNER?" She looked back at Trowa, who mentally winced at the penetrating stare she gave him. Something in her eyes just screamed of the thoughts of hope for him running through her mind, though all were in vain. She turned back to the child, smiling. "That's sort of cool," she said, slowly, "MY name's Catherine too."  
  
"I know!" the child cried, giggling. "I sawed you on the news! I is SO glad to meet ya!"  
  
"That's 'I am,' not 'I is,' " Heero murmured.  
  
Katie giggled. "Oopsies."  
  
Catherine snickered herself, then looked back at Trowa, who was wishing at that moment to be ANYWHERE but HERE. "Oh, so you heard of us, eh? Maybe you should meet my brother, TROWA."  
  
He winced, visibly this time, then stood up and cleared his throat, pinning Duo with a look of distrust before looking weakly at the child, who stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes that made his heart ache with the memory of who she had earned them from. She looked nothing like her mother--not even a slight resemblance was discernible (thank God).  
  
She beamed up at him as Catherine moved aside, giving him a nudge with her elbow before fading into the background. The girl offered him a tiny hand, grinning happily and giggling. "Hi, I'm Katie!"  
  
Slowly, he knelt down on the ground, then accepted her little hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. The moment his hand hit hers, a familiar feeling sparked within him...a very familiar feeling...and softly, he smiled, lowering his eyes. "Hello...Katie...I'm Trowa."  
  
She paused a moment, giving him an almost confused pout, then tilted her head to the side ever so slightly, her bangs shifting to completely reveal her wide eyes and her ponytail swishing into sight with a pale, golden shimmer. She didn't say anything.  
  
Trowa blinked, then glanced at Duo and Heero, who shared his expression. What was she going?  
  
"Katie?" Heero said, carefully, "What's the matter?"  
  
Then, without warning, she pulled her hand from his and snatched it by his index finger and pinkie. She tugged his arm until his hand fell into the narrow beam of sunlight, filtering in through the open doorway, then examined it. "Hmm..." she cooed, blinking, childish concentration written on her cute little face as she narrowed her eyes on it.  
  
Trowa blinked again. //What is she...?//  
  
But his thought was never finished, because suddenly, a giant grin split her face and her eyes flew open wide. "I know you!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down. "I remember you!"  
  
He blinked. "Excuse me?"  
  
Then, the next thing he knew, she was in his arms, clinging to him and giggling angelically with her uncles and his sister staring on in surprise. "You were there when I was a baby! I remember your hand, and--" she stopped, then reached up with both hands and removed his clown-mask, staring right into his eyes. She grinned, then dropped it and clung to him again. "I remember YOU!"  
  
"How cute!" Catherine cooed.  
  
He blinked, then blinked again, trying to decipher what she had said, and slowly, he lifted his right hand, looking at it. //She remembers my hand?//  
  
She drew away from him a moment, taking his hand, then pressed a gentle kiss to his index finger with a smile and clung to him again.  
  
[\\He carefully reached out to touch her hand, then blinked as she instantly grabbed his finger, looking up at him...and then, the baby stuck his finger in her mouth.\\]  
  
Could she possibly...remember that far back? Was it humanly POSSIBLE for a child to recall moments in infancy, especially those so amazingly early in life? Apparently so! He wouldn't be one to know, having lost his memories of infancy days after birth, but it certainly seemed that she really did know him...  
  
"Twowa..." she whispered, smiling against his neck. He gulped, confused, then gasped as she spoke again, whispering audibly to him. "Are you my other daddy?"  
  
Catherine gasped, Duo choked and Heero's mouth fell open, and Trowa felt his heart stop right in his chest at the innocent question. Did she just ask him--?! No! He was hearing things! He looked at the others one at a time, begging silently for some kind of reassurance that he was hallucinating, but not one of them could offer it to him. They had all heard it, and Katie had said it. She had...really asked if he was her OTHER father...as if someone had told her she had another besides Quatre...  
  
He swallowed, hard, then carefully took her from his shoulder and forced himself to speak, his voice much more steady than his expression and his hands. "Katie...you can only have ONE father..."  
  
She pouted, shaking her head. "But I didn't SAY father, I said DADDY-- there's a difference, you know!" She giggled at his bewildered expression, then reached out and cupped his cheek with her little hand, tenderly. "I KNOW who my father is--he's my Dada, Katwa--but a DADDY is different. He's my Daddy too, but I remember you from when I was really li'l. Maybe that means you're my other daddy!" She paused again, frowning. "You look scareded, did I scareded you?"  
  
He shook his head, weakly, and gently placed his hand over hers, smiling sadly as that odd feeling once again clutched his heart. He didn't know why, but somehow, he couldn't be afraid of her anymore...he couldn't think of her as the result of his worst nightmare. She was a little angel...and he couldn't bear to think of it any other way. So precious, so pure...so loving. "There's...only one ed on scared..." he said, softly, "And it's...it's 'did I scare you.' "  
  
"Oh...oopsies. Did I scare you?"  
  
"No...no, you didn't, Katie."  
  
Heero gave him a penetrating look that almost made him think the soldier was PROUD of him, but he brushed it off and turned his attention to the little girl in his hands, and he noticed with a frown that she was pouting.  
  
Suddenly, her hand came up and the back of it rubbed across his left eye, surprising him. "You shouldn't cry," she said, softly.  
  
He blinked, then sighed as he realized that he HAD started crying, but not out of any sadness or pain...but more out of confusion...and maybe even a little bit out of happiness. "Why?"  
  
She wiped his other eye with the sleeve of her pink sweater, then kissed his forehead, smiling. "B'cuz nobody as pretty as you should haf'ta cry."  
  
He smiled, weakly, then gently touched her cheek with his quivering fingers. She beamed and nuzzled his hand in return. "Katie..."  
  
"Katiekins," Duo said, suddenly, "We have to go soon."  
  
She frowned at him, and he frowned back, saddened by the unbecoming expression. "Aww...okies." She looked back at the braided man and his soldier, both of whom were standing in the doorway with almost pitying looks on their faces. "Can we come back?"  
  
"Tonight," Heero said. "If you can stay awake long enough, we'll bring you back for the next show tonight."  
  
She nodded, then turned back to Trowa and kissed his forehead again, tenderly. Then, she smiled at him, not beaming this time but just smiling, and his heart ached as he remembered her sire once more. "Twowa, will you be here?"  
  
He nodded, weakly.  
  
"Okay then..." she suddenly tilted her head again, "Twowa?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Can I call you Papa?"  
  
Duo and Heero both smirked from the entrance to the tent and Catherine cooed, softly, covering her mouth. All was silent from then on.  
  
Numbly, the Latin acrobat nodded his head, then sighed as she kissed his cheek again and skipped back to her uncles. He watched as she disappeared from his sight with Duo, then looked up at Heero, who remained in the entrance, looking down at him, expressionless. They stared at each other that way for what felt like forever, a thousand little eternities.  
  
Suddenly, the perfect soldier smiled, then flicked a stray lock of chocolate hair from his face and looked away, bowing his head. "You know," he said, smoothly, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and retrieving a pair of sunglasses, "She calls Quatre Dada...so I hope you feel special, Trowa."  
  
He didn't say anything, nor even move so much as an eyelash in reaction, though inside, everything was doing cartwheels.  
  
Heero sighed, nodding, then put on the shades with a smile. "See you tonight, I guess." He bowed his head to Catherine. "Nice seeing you again." Then, he turned away and headed off after the retreating backs of Katie and Duo, and the curtain he held open swung closed, locking the Bloom siblings in the dim darkness again.  
  
Thoughtlessly, Trowa scrambled almost blindly in the dim light to the curtain and pulled it open to watch them go, still experiencing a jumble of emotions ranging from confusion to sadness, with even a bit of dull joy mixed in. He sat on his knees in the entrance, tent curtain in hand, then smiled as Katie looked back and waved to him.  
  
Catherine quickly knelt behind him, taking his shoulders supportively. "I wonder," she whispered, "If that little girl is the doctor that can help you reclaim that lost leg of yours, Trowa."  
  
He almost retorted, but paused in mid-thought and smiled very weakly, staring off after the sweet little girl that reminded him so of his lost love. Maybe...just maybe...his sister was right.  
  
Maybe.  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued  
  
Xandra: Review, people, and thanx for reading! 


	4. Back to Where I Found You

Xandra: Hey all! I'm BAAAAAAACK! Been long enough? I think so. Trust me, I don't think we'll be that silent again. Not for so long, anyway. ^^;;; Right to the topic. Chapter three of My Little Katie! Deep-minded stuff here, so please pay attention and ENJOY! ^_^  
  
****  
  
My Little Katie  
  
By Xandra  
  
Chapter Three: Back to Where I Found You  
  
****  
  
"Dada! Dada! Dada!" The little blonde girl glomped her weary father the moment he met her, nearly knocking him to the floor in the entrance.  
  
Duo and Heero hurried to make sure he was okay as he stumbled back, his daughter clinging to his leg and chattering with such arduous velocity that not one of them understood a word of it. Being that the three of them were at LEAST bilingual each of them and had lived through a war where you had to understand spastically-shouted commands over gunfire and radio static, that was shocking.  
  
"Um, that's nice?" Quatre offered, weakly, staring at her as she prattled away. //That must be Dorothy's side of the family--I'd put myself in traction attempting that kind of speed!//  
  
"Oi," Duo groaned. "Shouldn't've given here that Coca Cola right after her cotton candy."  
  
"She's hyper," Heero sighed. "Fabulous. We're all going to die."  
  
The blonde aristocrat sighed. //I need THIS like a hole in the head...//  
  
"Dada! GuessWhat? IWentToThisPlaceAndItWasSoNeatoThereWasLionsAndTigersAndBears--OhMy!-- AndThereWasLightsAndPwettyColorsAndJugglersAndAMagicianAndALadyWiffASnakeAnd IMetAClownNamedTwowaWhewThatWasARealLongSen'ence!"  
  
He caught that last part (out of the whole thing) and stopped cold. "WHAT'S that?"  
  
Before Katie could take another breath to start off again, however, Duo skidded past and snatched her from his leg, his hand clamping down over her mouth. "Um, Katiekins, aren't you tired? You should be tired now, right?"  
  
She frowned as he released her mouth, then looked around. Suddenly, her wide, blue eyes dimmed and she fell against her uncle's shoulder, falling into an overacted pretend sleep, complete with snoring.  
  
Duo feigned innocent surprise, bringing his free hand to his mouth while holding the child over his shoulder with the other. "Well! Would'ja look at that! She fell right asleep! Welp, I better get her to bed!"  
  
Oh no he didn't. As the braided baka turned to go, Quatre's voice broke through the silence and echoed back off the marble impressively. "NOT--SO-- FAST--DUO."  
  
"Meep!" He turned back around, grinning nervously. "Er, y'know, you shouldn't shout like that. It's, uh, unhealthy--and scary too."  
  
Before he could even begin, however, Heero's hands locked down on his shoulders, restraining him most effectively. "Put Katie to bed, Duo," the soldier commanded.  
  
"Yes dear! Going!" He bolted off up the marble stairs, gripping the 'sleeping' child to his shoulder tightly.  
  
Quatre growled. "Damn it, Duo, come BACK here!"  
  
Katie sat up. "Dada said a bad word."  
  
"Katie!" Duo wailed. "SLEEP!"  
  
"Oh yeeeah." She 'fell asleep' again.  
  
Annoyed, the blonde aristocrat fought Heero's grip, but to no avail. He reached up in attempts to pry the restraining hand off--but his hand was immediately taken captive as well.  
  
Heero inspected his bandaged knuckles as he finally stopped fighting. "What happened to your hand." It was more a demand than a question.  
  
He blinked, his eyes falling across the bloody gauze he'd wrapped around his hand. Uh-oh. If Heero found out about the tantrum he'd thrown, he would give him another speech. He didn't want to face that. "Accident with my paper shredder," he lied, jerking his hand away.  
  
The other man caught his wrist up again without missing a beat. "If that were the case, you wouldn't have a hand anymore," Heero bit out. "What really happened?"  
  
"Nothing, okay? Will you let go now?"  
  
"Not until you tell me what did this, Quatre."  
  
"Why don't we start off with you telling me what you and Duo are up to?"  
  
The perfect soldier arched a dark eyebrow in well-practiced askance. "Pardon me?"  
  
Quatre yanked his hand free again and took a step backward, preventing Heero from catching it up a third time. He pointed an accusing finger at him. "Don't play dumb, you suck at it!"  
  
Heero smirked, briefly.  
  
"You two are pulling something, I just know it!"  
  
"Quatre, what are you talking about?"  
  
"Katie said 'Trowa'. She said his name."  
  
A look of surprise crossed the other's face. "She did?"  
  
"What did I just say about trying to play dumb?" the blonde man shouted, exasperatedly. "You suck, knock it off!"  
  
Sighing, Heero shook his head and caught his wrist again, surprising him with the quick, deliberate gesture. "Stop yelling, you'll wake your daughter. Come on." He carted him from the entrance into the living room.  
  
"But she's not even sleeping!" Quatre wailed. This was quickly becoming aggravating!  
  
Heero set him on the couch, then placed himself in an adjacent armchair and folded one leg over the other. "Quatre, I'm not sure what you thought you heard, but I didn't hear Katie say Trowa."  
  
"But she DID!"  
  
"Did she?" He sat forward in his seat, peering at him with his keen, dark eyes. "Or is it that you THOUGHT she did? Perhaps you WANTED to hear her say it?"  
  
"You're messing with my head!" the aristocrat snapped. "Knock it off!"  
  
Heero sighed, shaking his head, then sat back and folded his arms. "Why would she say his name, Quatre? Have you ever told her about him?"  
  
That made him pause. As a matter of fact, he hadn't. Katie knew absolutely nothing about the others. She knew Duo and Heero only because they had been with him every step of the way since her birth, but he'd never said a word about Trowa, or Wufei for that matter, who had disappeared shortly after he'd married Dorothy. (He'd said something about refusing to see the disgrace Quatre would become in the future. Ever since, he'd wondered if the zero-five pilot was a psychic--he'd had the proper foresight Quatre himself had lacked.) "No," he said, finally.  
  
"Then how would she know his name?"  
  
He sat there for a long moment, his heart secretly aching at the reference to his old obsession, trying to remember what had made him think she would say it. Had she really said 'Trowa'? She was talking so fast...she could have said something else...maybe he just had him on his mind, and it was making him hear things--then, it came to him. "You took her to a show," he said, slowly, looking at him. Heero nodded. "What show?"  
  
"Just a show."  
  
"Like what kind?"  
  
"A movie."  
  
"What movie?"  
  
"I was hardly paying attention, it was a kid's movie. Duo and Katie watched it, I fell asleep."  
  
Damn it. Wait, idea! "Show me the tickets."  
  
"I threw them away."  
  
Double damn it! Playing cat and mouse with him was getting REALLY old. "The circus is in town, Heero. Trowa's circus. How do I know you didn't take her there?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know the circus was in town--I thought the environmentalists scared them off last year, so I wasn't really watching for posters." He unfolded his arms. "Why are you suddenly so untrusting, Quatre? And why are you so obsessed with Trowa again?"  
  
"I'm not obsessed!" he shouted back, instantly. Heero's dark eyes narrowed on him, cutting him to pieces inside like blades, and he quickly backed down, guiltily. He was right--his suspicions were stupid. Pointless, even. He was just obsessing over Trowa...over the hope of seeing him again.  
  
But he couldn't do that. Trowa had a family now, and a place to belong. He had no right butting in now. He'd ruined his chances when he married Dorothy.  
  
No, before that, even. When he went out on that date with her and ended up creating Katie. It was sick of him to think that he should have never done it...had he not, he wouldn't have his angel...but had he kept to himself and turned Dorothy's date offer down, he might've...  
  
He might've what? Waited until the Gundam pilots finally split up and lost him anyway? He realized that was indeed the case. He would have never found the guts to tell Trowa how much he loved him. He was too much of a coward for that. He still was. There was no chance now.  
  
Heero was still watching him, he realized, as he looked up from his feet. The other ex-pilot looked concerned. "Quatre, maybe you should go to the circus."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm no psychologist, but I've lived with Duo long enough to pick up some of the mind-reading tactics he uses at the Center." He stood up, then knelt in front of the couch and set a hand on his shoulder, concern in his eyes. "This little outburst you just had is a perfect example--you accused your daughter of saying a name she's never heard. According to what I know from Duo, that's a sign of repressed thoughts and emotions of and for the person such delusions revolve around--Trowa. You should go see him if this bothers you so much."  
  
Quatre lowered his head again, closing his eyes and bringing his hands to his face. "I-I couldn't...I have so much to do--"  
  
"That cover is getting pretty weak, Cat."  
  
He looked up at the living room entryway, where Duo was leaning, smiling supportively. He sighed, his shoulders rounding, and shook his head as his best friend approached and sat next to him. "It's been too long..." he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "I-I can't..."  
  
Duo sighed, then wrapped an arm around him in a gentle hug, setting his cheek against the blonde's head. "Hey, hey...it's okay, you don't have to. Just calm down...we're here for you."  
  
Sighing heavily, he leaned against the braided man's shoulder, grateful for the support. Without Duo and Heero, Quatre would have lost his mind a long time ago--he would have become even MORE like his father...hateful toward everything. They were his only bastions now. The war might have been over, but he was still fighting one, and in the war of his life, they were his comrades. The two of them...and Katie.  
  
"You're overworked," Heero said at length. "You need to take some time off, even if it's just an hour or two--time out of this house, away from your computer--"  
  
"And DEFINITELY away from DOROTHY," Duo finished, giving him a little squeeze.  
  
He moved to argue, but the two of them looked directly at him from either side and he stopped. Honestly, he was too tired to argue with them and defend his position as tightass of the Earth Sphere. No, he wanted time off, if only a little. He sighed, finally defeated, then leaned into Duo's embrace again. "I assume you two have something in mind?"  
  
The two of them exchanged glances, then smirked in sync. Quatre felt his empathic danger-sense go haywire. "Well..."  
  
Heero stood up and reached into his pocket, pulling out four tickets, the backs facing him so he couldn't see the writing. "Katie wanted to go to another show tonight, so we told her we'd try to get you to come. You might even enjoy it."  
  
"You game, Q?"  
  
"You want me to go to a kiddie movie?" he asked, wryly.  
  
Duo and Heero exchanged glances again, silently.  
  
Slowly, Quatre sat upright, then looked between them. "I sense I'm getting screwed over, but fine. I could use a break, and if will make Katie happy, I'll do it."  
  
Duo bounced up off the couch. "Whoo-hoo!" he cried, throwing his fists into the air. "Yay not-so-old Q!"  
  
Heero chuckled and bopped his lover over the head with his fist, receiving a whiney pout in return.  
  
He raised an eyebrow, silently, smirking. //Not-so-old. I take offense to that.// But it was true. He was sort of an old man for being twenty-three. Sighing, he stood up, but the other two pilots quickly cut him off, eyeing him warily. He blinked. "What?"  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Not to your STUDY, I should hope!"  
  
He shook his head. "I need to shower, badly, and THEN I'm going to my study- -only for a second!" he added, quickly, as both sets of blue eyes narrowed viciously on him. "I need to leave an away message in my email and call Lawrence at the office, so he can inform all of my appointments for the night that I'm out. Then, I'll lock up for the night and leave work behind for the first time in five years."  
  
The guidance counselor and ESWAT sergeant exchanged glances for a third time, then nodded. "Good," Heero said. "And I'm confiscating your pager and cell phone before we go."  
  
"All right, MOM, whatever you say."  
  
"Don't make me put you over my knee, young man."  
  
Quatre smirked and Duo giggled, throwing his arms around Heero's neck. He pinched his cheek, beaming. "I just love it when he's funny, don't you?"  
  
"Omae o korosu."  
  
"No ya won't." He grinned.  
  
"Three words: life insurance policy."  
  
Duo scoffed. "Three more words: ain't got one. So bleh."  
  
Quatre rolled his eyes and sighed, then headed past them to the stairs. "Showering now, continue without me."  
  
"We will, don't worry!"  
  
Shaking his head, he started off up the staircase, slowly flexing the fingers of his right hand as he walked. //I guess I could use a break...// he thought, weakly. As he reached the top of the stairs, he sighed and lowered his head. //Trowa...I just wish I had the courage to see you again...I just wish...//  
  
~  
  
Duo and Heero stared at each other for a long moment in silence. Then, "How did you convince him she didn't say Trowa?"  
  
"I used your mind-scrambling tactics, of course," the soldier said, simply. He planted himself on the couch, and Duo dropped down next to him, cuddling into his shoulder. He sighed. "I made him admit to his remaining feelings for Trowa and it got him off on a tangent to the point that he completely forgot about it."  
  
"That's pretty smart," the braided boy said, approvingly. He patted his head, receiving a flat grunt in response. "That's my boy!"  
  
"Duo, don't do that. I don't find it funny."  
  
"Aww, I'm sorry. I'm just so excited about tonight--yeah, that sounds bad, I know, shut up." Heero smirked in silent compliance and Duo continued. "I mean, we're actually gonna get them back together! Finally! It's just so great, don'cha think?"  
  
He nodded, weakly. "Yes, well, it seems they could use each other."  
  
"Oh, don't be so cold about it, Hee-chan. You know just as well as I do that you can't wait to see the looks on their faces when they run right into each other."  
  
Well, there was always THAT. He honestly did want Quatre and Trowa back together--even before he himself had found out his feelings for Duo, he'd seen what they shared for each other, and he'd appreciated it. They were a good match for one another, each canceling out the other's faults...Trowa with his stoicism was counteracted by Quatre's natural (or prior) joy for life, and Quatre's calm intelligence was backed by Trowa's bravery and willingness to protect. They were meant to be--this was right. "The end justifies the means," he muttered to himself.  
  
Duo looked at him. "What's that?"  
  
He shook his head. "Nothing..." The actual quote was 'the end does not justify the means', meaning that doing a bad thing for a good cause was still a bad thing. Whether or not he believed that was unclear to him...originally, he'd supported the statement, but now he was lying to a friend to change his life? Did the end really justify the means?  
  
He decided to let it go. If it did...they would find out soon enough...  
  
~  
  
"Trowa!"  
  
"Tro~wa!"  
  
"Trowa, where are you, you ass?!"  
  
Catherine leaned back against one of the many pine trees as the others continued looking around for her little brother. He liked to play Houdini and disappear now and again, especially when he was depressed or thinking. They'd combed every inch of the tent, checking his normal hiding spots and even some unusual ones, but they couldn't find him this time. Everyone was getting worried...it just wasn't right for the circus owner to just go poof like that! If he weren't her baby brother, she would be honestly worried.  
  
Backward as that sounded.  
  
He was a Bloom, and thusly he did what he wanted, when he wanted to, without heed of the consequences or how it would worry others.  
  
Maybe that's why he'd made such a good Gundam pilot.  
  
She sighed and closed her eyes. //Where could you be hiding, Trowa?// she wondered. He usually got sick of the repetitive shouting of his name and came out by this time, but he was really gone now. //Maybe you went out to find that leg of yours, huh?// The redheaded knife-thrower looked up at the bright blue sky, then sighed again. //As if you'd ever do that.//  
  
She recalled first seeing the boy that had taken her brother's heart away-- first laying her eyes upon the small, feminine boy with a steel will and a heart of gold. She could remember the look of confusion in his lovely eyes, the sadness in his face when he learned that Trowa had lost his memory, when he learned that Trowa had forgotten him. It had honestly crushed her to say the cruel words she had said to him to make him go away, but she had thought she was protecting her brother. Even then, she had seen the love that she knew would be the very end of her brother's life alone.  
  
Of course, Trowa had gone to find him anyway, as was expected, even with her worried words of pleading for his safety. No matter what name he went under, what mask he hid behind, what he lost along the way...he would always be a Bloom. //I hope you went out to find him, Trowa,// she thought at length, //Because somehow, I know, he needs you just as much as you need him.//  
  
Isabella the snake charmer rushed up to her, breathless and flushed, her stage make-up starting to run from the sweat pouring down her face. "Catherine," she panted. "We can't find him. We've checked everywhere-- Vernon, Cassíme and Archibald combed the grounds and found nary a footprint. It's like he just disappeared!"  
  
She smiled, weakly. "That's my Trowa for you. If he doesn't want to be found, then you won't find him."  
  
"Are you just going to let him stay missing?" Isabella asked, sadly.  
  
Catherine stood upright, setting her hands on her hips with a tired sigh. "Now what kind of older sister would I be if I let him do what he wanted to do?"  
  
Precious the snake came slinking up and wrapped around Isabella's leg, drawing his mistress' eyes. Curious, she picked him up and draped him over her shoulders, then blinked as he presented his mouth to her. She reached to his scaly lips, then paused. "Catherine, look what Precious found..."  
  
The Bloom heiress approached and put out her hand, only to accept a small sliver of sharp, white substance. She looked at it. "Hmm."  
  
"It feels like glass," Isabella said, softly. "But I've never seen white glass before."  
  
After a long moment of silence. Catherine lifted her head and looked at the young snake charmer. "I have--and now I know what he's up to. Can Precious show me where he found this, Isabella?"  
  
The dark-haired woman nodded. "Yes, of course. Honey, where'd you get the pretty glass?"  
  
Precious slunk from her shoulders and slipped down her back, then landed on the ground and headed off, almost faster than Catherine could walk. Both women followed the python across the circus-grounds.  
  
Vernon, their resident illusionist, caught up with them along the way. "Why are you letting your snake rush about that way?" the older man questioned, exasperatedly. "We could get in a lot of trouble for this--freeing a dangerous animal."  
  
"My Precious isn't dangerous," Isabella spat. "And we're finding Trowa, so we need to have him out."  
  
Suddenly, their fire-eater jogged past, cackling. "Who needs a bloodhound when you have a Burmese python?"  
  
Precious took a quick snap at his feet, startling him (as always), before continuing onward.  
  
Within minutes, the group of people following the giant snake consisted of most of the circus, but the run wasn't a long one. He stopped, suddenly, at the edge of the forest where the trees began, then coiled back around Isabella's ankles in defeat.  
  
As the others began to whisper, Catherine paced slowly to the place where the snake had stopped and knelt down, then touched the indentations in the ground with her fingertips.  
  
"What's up, Cathy?" Cassíme asked.  
  
"Tire-tracks."  
  
"So? We have a lot of trucks."  
  
"They're recent."  
  
The whispers broke out louder than ever.  
  
"Trowa took one of the trucks?"  
  
"Why would he do that?"  
  
"I didn't know he could drive one..."  
  
Her keen, silvery eyes snapped instantly to some debris scattered in a line across the tracks, right where they were deepest. Carefully, she picked a thin sliver of white alloy from the mud with her fingernails, then compared it to the one Precious had found. She nodded, as if agreeing with herself, then stood upright and held them up for the others to see. "This wasn't one of our trucks--it was his truck, the cargo truck he's been dragging around with us for the last eight years." She tossed the shards to Isabella, who frowned at them, then turned and headed off down the small path created by the space between the huge wheels of the truck. "He took the Heavyarms somewhere."  
  
The others stayed behind and watched her leave, wisely. This happened often enough that they'd learned their place--when Trowa did this, it was up to Catherine to confront him, and no one else.  
  
After the destruction of the Gundam Heavyarms, Trowa had felt guilty, so he'd kept the most whole pieces out of sentiment. He'd felt as if he'd murdered a friend, he said, so he wanted to keep some of the parts. Well, 'some of the parts' had turned out to be most of the chest cavity and cockpit, as well as the left arm and gattling gun, which were still connected to the mass. (He might've kept and rebuilt the whole thing, had the legs not been destroyed.) The white shards Precious had found were tiny pieces of the decaying Gundanium alloy originally used in the legs--they were all over that truck's bed. He refused to leave it, so she'd allowed him to take it along with them when they traveled, and even when they were at home for the three months they didn't tour, he kept it nearby. When he was depressed, he sat with 'his old friend', but apparently he'd wanted to be alone, so he took the truck somewhere else.  
  
Too bad it weighed so much that it left tire tracks, or he might've stayed hidden longer.  
  
In time, Catherine came across a slight clearing in the forest, where the clear-cutters had stopped, leaving stumps and open space amongst the trees, and there she found the massive, green carrier-truck, the canvas cover for the Gundam thrown back over the edge. Now she knew where he was. This was Trowa's equivalent of a boy shutting himself in his bedroom--he locked himself in the Heavyarms' cockpit and sat there in the dark, all by himself. The hydraulics and motors had been taken out, for the most part, and the thing had no legs, fuel or ammunition anyway, so it couldn't go anywhere. It was just his room to him...a place to be alone.  
  
Sighing heavily, she went to the cab of the truck and climbed in, then moved to switch the door-unlocking sequence to lower the back of the truck, but she paused as she noted that the keys were missing. Yep, sitting in his room and locking the door. He was trying to hide, and he knew she'd come after him. Typical. For a man of twenty-three, Trowa was such a child at times.  
  
Not like he didn't deserve the right to be that way.  
  
She shrugged, then tightened the laces on her sneakers. //Well, thank God I changed before I came out here, eh?// She hopped down out of the cab, then circled to the back of the behemoth truck and scaled the door. (That was the good thing about this nasty old army transport--it was like a huge pick- up truck.) Once inside, she looked down the length of the battered Gundam's body, taking a moment to appreciate just how much it had been through.  
  
The Heavyarms was like a half-eaten corpse in comparison to its once-proud glory. Where the legs had once been, now only some metal and wires remained, and the chest's adornments had been stripped away in the blast from the self-destruct mechanism. The fact that it still HAD a cockpit was a miracle--the whole thing should have been destroyed, but it had been so well-armored that its own destruction system had failed to fully get rid of it. The blue custom armor was no more, and very little of the original red plating remained. The right arm was completely gone, save some cables and part of a connecting hinge, but the left was still fully intact, and Trowa had reattached the original machine gun after recovering the suit's remains, being that the original twin machine guns had gone up with much of the custom work and body. Half the head remained, and the other half was merely some wire and an almost skull-like outline of what had once been the head's shaping structure, still sporting the green glass eye.  
  
She sighed, then patted what remained of the right leg's upper thigh. "Well, Heavyarms," she sighed. "At least Trowa still loves you."  
  
The old bodywork of the Gundam creaked, seeming to sigh a weary sigh of resignation. Catherine, like her brother, believed that even machines had souls...and the Heavyarms' soul was tired. Sometimes you just had to let things go.  
  
But, of course, Trowa wouldn't hear that. She'd tried it before and lost track of him for half a month as punishment.  
  
She hopped spryly onto the remainder of the leg, then balance-beamed carefully up it and across the chest to the cockpit, which she found closed. That sealed it for sure--he was here. Kneeling down next to the door, she pounded on it with her fist. "Trowa, come out of there."  
  
No response. (Not like she'd expected an obedient 'yes, dear older sister' from HIM.)  
  
"Trowa, I know you're in there. The cockpit can only be closed from the inside."  
  
Silence.  
  
She sat for a moment, then sighed and leaned back against a chunk of bent orange armor. "I know you can hear me in there...please, don't do this again."  
  
There was another round of thick silence before she heard something shift inside. Then, the cockpit door slowly and creakingly lifted and dropped back with a heavy thud, followed by the same tired sighing, leaving the cavity open.  
  
Catherine scooted over and looked down into the remaining bowels of the Heavyarms, down at her younger brother, who sat in the pilot's seat, his hands on what remained of the controls, eyes closed, as if blocking the world out. She never did figure out what he was always doing in there, but she assumed that maybe he WAS trying to block it all out...trying to pretend he was still a Gundam pilot, maybe. She leaned over and carefully reached down, allowing her fingers to settle over one of his tightly- clenched hands. "You should have figured out by now that you can't hide from me," she said, gently.  
  
And back it went to the pattern of no answer. He remained perfectly still, as if a statue--or perhaps a broken robot--his eyes fastened closed, refusing to even breathe noticeably.  
  
She sat for a long moment, contemplating what to say. Finally, as the heavy apparatus gave another broken sigh, she decided that was a good topic...one she'd been meaning to broach for some time now. "Sorta funny how everything gets old in time, huh? First Mac, and now your Gundam..."  
  
"Don't."  
  
The break in the silence startled her, but it was brief. She looked at him. He remained motionless--that word had been the only change. //I think I see now,// she thought. She gave his hand a gentle, supportive squeeze, feeling how tense his muscles were. //He's afraid...afraid to let go of the past.//  
  
He was so broken up about Mac the lion, laying back at the camp in his cage, due to die within a month or two. He had been Trowa's first friend here--first living friend, that is. There was a connection between the tiger and the mecha. Mac and the Heavyarms were both very, very old, and both were slowly dying in front of his eyes. Trowa already felt that he had already lost something very close to his heart--Quatre--and now Mac was due to go too. He was gripping the control levers so tightly that his knuckles were bone-white, and he refused to shift from that seat. And why? Because he was afraid to lose Heavyarms too, like he'd lost everything else.  
  
It was pretty sad, she thought, how she could understand this situation and link it to a normal one. This was almost like a son keeping his dying mother on life-support...she wasn't afraid to die, and maybe she wanted to go, but he wouldn't let her, because he was afraid to let her go. Because he was afraid to lose her. The same went for the poor old Gundam and its pilot. //It's funny how many similes I can find to explain his life and mind,// she thought, wryly. //I think that may be a sign that he's not so strange as many might think him to be.//  
  
"I could die here," Trowa said at length. She looked at him, mildly surprised. His eyes were open now, glazed with melancholy thought. "I could activate the destruct sequence again and die right here."  
  
"That system doesn't work more than once, as far as I know," she said, carefully, though inside she was upset by the statement. "Besides, you haven't got any hydraulics or fuel, and the mechanism is probably long since gone after you blew this thing up the first time."  
  
"Don't say 'thing'. It irritates me."  
  
"Trowa, this is silly. You wouldn't go killing yourself--I know you. At one time, yes, you would have, but not now. You're too strong to give up."  
  
"Am I?" The coldness in his voice bit into her, viciously, as he turned his dark eyes to focus on her. "Am I really so strong?"  
  
She didn't answer.  
  
Slowly, he turned his gaze to the left-hand control lever. "The gattling is loaded," he murmured, quietly, "And the hydraulics are shot, but the emergency engine has the potential to be useful, and the motors of the arm are still intact. All it would take would be a round of ammunition to the trees surrounding us and they'd crush the truck and myself. I could die here..." his eyes slid shut, "...entombed with my Gundam."  
  
That did it. "And what good will that do, you selfish little boy?" Catherine demanded. "You'll just be running away! You're too brave for that and I know it even if you refuse to admit to it. You would destroy all of us if you did something so stupid."  
  
"You could go on without me."  
  
"I hit you once for this, Triton Bloom, and I WON'T hesitate to do it again if you don't snap out of this angst-funk you're in and turn back into my little brother!"  
  
Sighing heavily, Trowa looked at her and frowned, very visible pain in his eyes. Seeing that little girl--Katie--had really shaken him up, especially considering whose child she was and how she had treated him. She had acted as if she knew him, as if she had known him all her life, and treated him like one would a parent, or someone close to it. She had shown very visible love for him.  
  
Even at that moment, Catherine was really wondering why she felt that way, and how deep it really went. Certainly, she could have been just like any plain, endearing child...but it had seemed so much more than that. "Triton," she said, softly. "Please...no more of this."  
  
His eyes slid closed again. It was funny, really, how Trowa had spoken of wanting a name all his life, and now that he had a real name, he seemed to despise it, especially when she used it in tense situations such as these. It was all she could think to do, though, because it told him that she was serious, and he took it that way.  
  
Carefully, she reached her hand out to him, offering it without touching him at all, and waited.  
  
After another long span of silence, his green eyes opened once more and he removed his hands from the controls, accepting the passage back to reality and from the nostalgic box he had fallen into. As he climbed up and sat on Heavyarms' chest with his sister, he fell gently against her in weak askance for comfort, and she obliged him, draping her arms about his shoulders and pulling him into a soft, sympathetic hug. It fell quiet, then, but only for a moment.  
  
"It's hard, Cathy," he whispered against her shoulder, his voice so faint that she hardly heard it over the rustling of the trees around them. "It's so hard..."  
  
She lifted one of her hands and buried it in his hair, receiving a weak sigh of protest for the action. "Hush now," she said, calmly. "Don't do this now. This is your hope, Trowa, so don't push it away."  
  
"It's hopeless. Quatre will NEVER care about me the way I do about him--"  
  
"I doubt he ever could." He jerked quickly away from her, staring at her with hurt shock in his eyes, but she read his misinterpretation. She took his shoulders, gently, and stared into his eyes for an endless moment. Then, she smiled, tiredly, and cupped his face in her hands, kissing him on the forehead. "You love him so much, Trowa...I've always seen it in you...I doubt anyone could love another person as much as you do him, I swear by it."  
  
The offensiveness faded from his eyes and his head dropped in resignation. He settled to lean against her as they sat there together, both contemplating.  
  
Catherine almost smiled as she realized the truth in her own eyes. For the umpteenth time that day, she remembered first laying eyes on Quatre Raberba Winner.  
  
[\\ "Trowa?!"  
  
Her head snapped up from what she'd been doing and she felt her heart pause as the name echoed through her ears. Upon the very sound, she knew exactly what was happening. This wasn't someone who had heard his name, or someone who had been taught it--this was the voice of someone that really knew it...knew him.  
  
Someone that knew him when he didn't know himself. //Oh no.// Catherine hurried out of the tent, pausing a moment to get a look at the man who threatened to destroy the family she had worked so hard to rebuild by taking Trowa away from her.  
  
But it wasn't a man--it was a boy! He was young, Trowa's age, but something about him carried an air of a man twice that...a certain maturity that was no doubt a burden to him. The pale, thin, blonde-haired boy was staring at Trowa with wide eyes, absolute joy on his face.  
  
He had to be another Gundam pilot--one of the monsters that were helping in this damned war. He wouldn't take Trowa away.  
  
"Trowa..." the boy whispered. "Trowa, is it really you?"  
  
Slowly, her long-lost brother's 'replacement' turned from his duties, standing upright, his vague eyes wide with innocence that looked so misplaced there. "Who are you?" he asked, curiously.  
  
The blonde boy blinked. "Trowa?"  
  
Upon the sound of his voice, she watched in horror as something sparked in his eyes. It wasn't recollection...no, his memory was too far lost to him for that to be possible...but...it was something that said he knew who this was, without really knowing at all. "Do...you know me?"  
  
The stranger looked crushed. "Don't you recognize me?"  
  
He did. Whatever it was, something in his eyes seemed to scream the words, 'yes! I do! I know who you are!' Trowa didn't voice them, though. He looked so very lost, and yet, that tiny little something in his eyes said it all.  
  
Then, she recognized exactly what that something was--it was something that neither Hell nor high water could overcome if it was true, and it was something she refused to let come out if it was what she thought. She couldn't bear it if this BOY took Trowa away from her! She rushed from the tent and interceded before he could answer. "Trowa!" she shouted, drawing both sets of eyes with a good start from both. "Go over there. Now." She pointed.  
  
He blinked. "B-but sis--"  
  
"SIS?" the intruding boy asked, incredulously. He looked absolutely shocked.  
  
"Just do it!" she snapped. He flinched, visibly thrown, so she quickly lowered her voice to a gentler tone. "I'll feed the animals, so you go help the ringmaster, okay?"  
  
"All right."  
  
As Trowa turned to leave, the boy cried after him, "Wait!" He moved to follow, but Catherine cut him off, physically.  
  
"What did you come here for, huh?!" she demanded, furiously. "You plan to take Trowa away to the battlefield again?!"  
  
His gentle features hardened with resentment. "Who are YOU?" he demanded.  
  
"That child is my little brother," she spat. "A child of this circus!" Maybe it was denial--but she didn't care. As far as she was concerned, it was true. Now.  
  
"But, he--"  
  
"I don't want to let him suffer any more." She looked off after Trowa as he disappeared into the tent, her anger suddenly deflating as she remembered first seeing him as he was now. "...That child has lost his memory. And his past is so painful, I don't WANT him to remember!"  
  
He looked stunned for a long moment before he finally spoke back--but his tone lacked the bite it had carried before. He looked full-heartedly regretful. "It's--it's my fault. I'm sorry." He looked away from her and that same thing flashed through his eyes. Her heart paused mid-beat. "Trowa sacrificed himself to make right my mistake. It's not something I can be forgiven for just by apologizing, but I am truly sorry."  
  
Could it be that he--no. No, she wouldn't believe it. She held a stiff front. "If you feel that way then consider that Trowa is happy here with us now."  
  
As he turned to go, he looked up at the tent, his eyes shining with tears he refused to shed out of what she sensed to be an amazing inner-strength. "I'm sorry...Trowa..."  
  
The retreating back of the small boy faded into the distance, and Catherine tried to go back to her duties, but she couldn't help but feel that he had meant every word that he said--and that she hadn't seen the last of that boy. \\]  
  
She looked down at her younger brother, who lay enraptured in his own thoughts, his head resting ever so gently against her chest. //I was wrong to think that I could keep you, Trowa,// she thought, smiling softly at him. //Even if your body is here with me...your mind and heart are always with him, aren't they?// She lifted her eyes to the bright blue sky, then sighed to herself as she felt his grip on her tighten in anguish. //If it costs me all I have left, Trowa, I WILL make up for my mistake, and yours. That little girl is the key to healing you...and if I have to, I'll go to him myself and bring him back here to you. If that's what it takes--I'll do it.//  
  
**** ~  
  
Quatre stared long and hard at his reflection in the mirror, and a semi- familiar man stared back at him. The face he saw was his own--the same boyish face he had born all his life--but it was thinner, and the familiar green-blue eyes were accented by dark circles that were rather unbecoming. His thin frame was draped in stylish but casual attire: well-fitting khakis, a loose-knit, indigo turtleneck and a blue vest. [2] He might've looked better had there been more meat on his bones. He sighed as he raked his fingers back through his feathery hair. //And to think, I used to hate my baby fat.// He poked idly at his trim middle. //Children are so ungrateful.//  
  
He could hear Katie in the next room, bouncing around while Duo chased her around, trying to get her to put some clothes on. This was her favorite game, the one she called 'panties are fun to wear outside', in which the adult had to chase her down and force her to wear clothes or she'd run out in her cute little pink underwear and off down the street. Quatre was leaving it to Duo because he knew the other man had a better chance of winning. That, and if all else failed, he could sic Heero on Katie. She'd get dressed THEN, no doubt about it.  
  
The blonde aristocrat looked at himself for a moment more, gingerly fingering the dark ring beneath his left eye, then sighed. //Why am I obsessing so much?// he wondered. //It's just a child's movie...not like anyone will see me, or that it would matter if they did...// Slowly, he brought his hands to the center of his chest, folding them one over the other right above his heart. //Why do I feel as if this is important? Is it because I have work to do?// He frowned at himself. //No...that's not it...what is it?//  
  
"Hey QUAAA~TRE!"  
  
He jumped, then observed the startled expression on his own face and smirked, lightly. //Coward. What happened to nerves of steel and all that?// "Yeah, Duo?"  
  
The door opened and in walked his best friend, carrying the captive five- year-old girl, who wore a pretty pink dress, her hair up in a cute ponytail. He paused, then whistled. "Nice outfit, Q."  
  
"Thanks," he sighed. As his daughter was turned loose to run at him, he knelt and caught her. "Wow, is this my Katie?" he asked, feigning surprise.  
  
She nodded. "Yup. Doodle put me in a dress, though. Pooh." She messed with the frills. "My legs is cold."  
  
"That's 'my legs ARE cold,' not 'my legs is cold,'" Heero corrected from the doorway.  
  
"Ya, what he sayed."  
  
"Said."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
He sighed.  
  
Quatre smiled, then held his little girl at arm's length. "You look very pretty, sweetheart."  
  
She beamed. "Fank you."  
  
Duo covered Heero's mouth. "Leave that one alone, it's cute."  
  
The blonde man smirked, then scooped the child up. "Okay," he sighed. "Where are we going?"  
  
The zero-one and zero-two pilots exchanged glances, then looked at Katie, who giggled, and suddenly, Quatre's empathy kicked in, warning him against their actions. However, he was trapped, thanks to the presence of his daughter. "You'll see," Duo said. "C'mon, let's get goin'."  
  
The four traveled out to the front drive, where a car and Heero's motorcycle awaited them. Quatre blinked. "Um..."  
  
"Welp," Duo sighed, "This is where we part."  
  
He stared. "...What."  
  
"Yep. See, we all can't fit on the Harley, and my car only carries two, so that means you ride with Heero and I take Katie with me."  
  
"Hurray!" the girl cried.  
  
Quatre gulped, then eyed the huge motorcycle. "You're kidding."  
  
"I kid you not, Mr. Winner," the braided man chuckled. He snatched the giggling child away from him, then tossed him a black helmet. "And hold on tight, man, it literally sucks if you don't."  
  
He blinked, then looked at Heero, who smirked at the fear in his face. "I'm going to hate this," he muttered.  
  
"No you won't," the police sergeant said, tonelessly. "You'll love it."  
  
****  
  
"I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HAAAAAATE IT!" the blonde shrieked as they roared down the abandoned street.  
  
"Stop screaming," the brunette cyclist called back to him, "You're an embarrassing passenger."  
  
"HEERO! IF YOU DON'T SLOW DOWN I'LL KILL YOU!"  
  
"And we'll crash and you'll die too, though you might crush my ribs anyway with how you're holding on."  
  
"THEN SLOW THE HELL *DOWN*!"  
  
A black Viper roared up and eased down to their speed, and the window rolled down, revealing a familiar grin. "Wha'sa matter, Kitty Cat? You look a little frizzy!"  
  
"I HATE THIS!" Quatre shouted. "AND I HATE YOU TOO!"  
  
Katie giggled from nearby. "Hee hee! Dada, you're funny!"  
  
"YEAH, I'M A RIOT, I'M SURE!"  
  
"Quit'cher bitchin', ya baby!" Duo called. "We're almost there."  
  
"ON THE WAY BACK, *I* DRIVE THE CAR!"  
  
"Whatever you say, man, whatever you say!"  
  
****  
  
The sports car and motorcycle coasted slowly over the grass field, where other cars were already parked, and people buzzed around the area like flies on a corpse.  
  
As he stepped off the bike, Quatre suddenly felt a stunning spell of déjà vu, and he soon discovered why as their group of four approached the center of the excitement--and a striped tent rose on the horizon. Everything seemed to disappear as the semi-familiar music came to his ears, and the sign stood out like a beacon in the night:  
  
*~~~~~~~THE TRINITY CIRCUS~~~~~~~*  
  
The Oldest Three-Ring Show in the Universe!  
  
His eyes slowly widened in shock as it all sunk it. He'd seen a sign like this before...  
  
[\\ A young, lost boy looked up at a sign, one that simply read 'The Trinity', his heart ablaze with hope and uncertainty. "Here...?" he whispered. His heart pounded furiously in his chest at the very thought. //Could Trowa really be here? Have I found him?// Hope imploded within him. He'd lost him--and now he'd found him again. \\]  
  
Indeed he had...and there was no escaping this time--no walking away. He'd found Trowa again.  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued  
  
[1] This entire dialogue was a splice of the translated Japanese script for GW episode thirty-eight, with a few lines edited to how they came out in the English dub. (Example: in the Japanese translation, they kept it that Trowa called Catherine 'neesan', or a respectful but loving form of 'sister', but in the English dub, Trowa just called her 'sis', and that sounds more fluid there without using the Japanese part. And of course, all Catherine's thoughts were just my version of what she might've been thinking.  
  
[2] If anyone has ever seen the cover of number 6 of the Gundam Wing Episode Zeros, you'd recognize this outfit. ^_^ It's also been featured as just a plain picture, but either way, I saw Quatre in it and fell out of my chair back when I first found it. It made cute little Mr. Perfect look SEXY. *sighs* (And for those who've seen the picture, ya gotta love the tiny bit of flesh on him that you can see, ne? ^_~)  
  
Xandra: As a sidenote, in the English dub of Gundam Wing episode thirty- eight, Trowa is quoted to have said "Who is he? I...know that guy...! I know him..." after Quatre left the circus. But, according to Gundamwing.net, in the original Japanese version, he said "Who is...that? I know him...I feel for him." Sounds a bit more loving that way, don't you agree? I love it. ^_^ Almost died when I heard it.  
  
BUT, enough of that! How'd you like the chapter? Review, please. ^^ 


	5. Reunion

Xandra: I updated. O.O Weird, ne? Ah well. Two warnings: surprise cameo (with another original child-character) and a long-awaited confrontation. A lot of imagery here...I know it's a little long, and a little wordy, but read it, I like it. Enjoy, and remember, reviews = updates! ^_^ Arigatou mina-san!  
  
****  
  
My Little Katie  
  
By Xandra  
  
Chapter Four: Reunion  
  
****  
  
The backstage area of the tent was buzzing with just as much life as the outside, the performers all ready to put on a show. Only a select few were still in preparation, for one reason or another. Of course, their star acrobat was one of them.  
  
Trowa sighed and sat back in the makeup chair, watching as Isabella continued to paint him with clear substance. "Catherine, didn't we talk about discussing changes in costume?" he asked, pointedly.  
  
She smirked. "Well, if SOME people were AROUND to talk, we would have."  
  
"Well, at least tell me what she's doing to me."  
  
"Think of it as body makeup—it's florescent paint, visible only in ultraviolet light, and when combined with the powder she'll be applying next, it'll leave tribal-like designs across your torso."  
  
His frown deepened. "We've practiced very rarely in ultraviolet light."  
  
"No, we practiced last night in it," she retorted.  
  
"And the night before that," Isabella added, helpfully. "You're used to it. You're just in a crappy mood." She pinched his cheek.  
  
Annoyed, he snapped at her hand.  
  
She flicked him in the forehead in response. "See? Crappy mood!"  
  
"Hmph."  
  
Catherine smiled, then patted his head. "Your night show is always better in that light, and it entertains people, so be happy. Don't be so sour."  
  
"I'm not being sour."  
  
"And now you're pouting."  
  
"I AM NOT!"  
  
Isabella smirked. "Omigosh, you people are so funny. I'll leave you to your fighting—I have to go get my baby ready." She finished her painting, then handed Catherine a small, black canister and skipped away to fetch her snake.  
  
Trowa scowled bitterly as his sister knelt in front of him, opening the can and bringing a white powder puff into his sight. He sat back in the chair, eyes shut, teeth gritted, and suffered himself to be patted at with the fluffy thing. "I DESPISE you," he hissed.  
  
"What else is new?" she asked, narrowly. When he didn't respond, she decided to make a pain of herself, as all older sisters must do. "Besides little Miss Katie Winner, that is. What a cute little girl."  
  
His eyes snapped open. "Change the subject."  
  
She laughed and patted his nose with the powder puff, making him sneeze, then scowl at her, bitterly, his face flushing. "Duo and Heero are bringing her back tonight, aren't they? They said they'd try."  
  
"Whatever you're thinking, stop thinking it," he grunted.  
  
"My, and you complain about MY moodiness," she snickered. She continued patting the finishing dust along his neck and shoulders as he leered at the roof of the tent. "You're worse than I am. Just earlier, you were depressed, then focused, then depressed, then happy for a while, then depressed and now you're being an ass. My God, I have to check in with the Guinness Book to see what the record for mood-swinging is...or maybe Ripley's. Hmm."  
  
"If you're so worried about my fluctuating emotional state, then perhaps you could try to let me remain despondent. If you didn't meddle so much, I could stay comfortably depressed for as long as you'd like. At least I would be stable."  
  
"Try not being depressed altogether and we'll see how that works out, then we can discuss other things."  
  
"Ha."  
  
"You really are a prude, you know that?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow, looking at her, dryly. "I'M a prude? Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?"  
  
She smirked, then patted him in the face again, earning another annoyed sneeze. "I've never seen a black kettle in my life, thanks, now sit still. I have to go tend the crowd soon, so quit being a pig and let me finish your makeup."  
  
There was a tense pause, in which Trowa wore the most uncomfortably annoyed look imaginable, and then, he spoke again. "Well, it could be worse."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yeah. I could be wearing your makeup."  
  
Catherine blinked, then glanced in the beveled mirror nearby, taking a moment to admire her pale skin and red-and-blue highlighted lips and eyes. She rolled her eyes, then patted his face a third time with the puff. "Shut up, you, or you will be."  
  
~  
  
"NO! NO-NO-NO—AND A HUNDRED TIMES, NO!" But the protests fell on basically deaf ears as his two best friends literally carried him, one on either arm, toward the huge tent, Katie skipping close at hand. "I WON'T! YOU CAN'T! I'LL SUE YOU BOTH, I SWEAR!"  
  
"And you'll get nothing."  
  
"We're broke, dude."  
  
"You LIED to me!" Quatre screamed, hoarsely. "She DID say Trowa, you BROUGHT her here before, and NOW you're MEDDLING! You have no right! You're both backstabbers! BOTH of you!"  
  
They exchanged a brief glance, then set him on his feet, only to turn him in the direction of the most massive of crowds. He stopped fighting.  
  
"Making a scene isn't smart for someone such as yourself, MISTER Winner," Duo whispered. "People have cameras...how bad would it be for you to get caught raving like a psycho outside of a random circus?"  
  
"How many reporters do you think it will take to locate our information from our days as Gundam pilots?" Heero added, semi-tonelessly. "Imagine what kind of rumors could be started. You wouldn't want that, would you?"  
  
He stared numbly at the people, who were slowly staring to turn their attention to the lone blonde man, little girl and brunette pair. He was trapped. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, quietly. "Why?"  
  
"Because it's about damn time it was done!"  
  
"Amen."  
  
"What are you trying to prove here?!"  
  
The braided man caught him up by his collar, leering viciously into his eyes and startling him. "We're trying to prove that you are still a human being with a heart that hurts much more than you'll ever say. THAT'S what we're trying to prove."  
  
Quatre stared quietly up at him for a long moment, stunned by the exclamation, then slowly lowered his head. "What do you expect me to do here?" he whispered. "What?"  
  
"I expect you to do nothing more than go in there and watch the show." Duo set him on his feet, then knelt and scooped up the pink-clad little girl, who was pouting confusedly. "For her sake."  
  
"Can we go inside now?" Katie whined. "Please?"  
  
His friend glanced at him. "Well, 'Dada'?"  
  
Slowly, Quatre turned and looked up at the tent, then lowered his head in resignation. "All right. Let's go."  
  
"Yay!"  
  
"Atta boy, Q."  
  
"BUT," he added, his voice a low growl, "If either one of you tries to meddle, I know where you live and I have several guns, a hunting knife and very little self-control."  
  
Heero and Duo both blinked.  
  
"..."  
  
"Yikes. I mean, really, yikes. That's an all new extreme of scary right there."  
  
"Glad you feel that way," the aristocrat said, tonelessly. He turned his attention to the confused and pouting little girl in his best friend's arms. "Let's go in and see the show now, huh?"  
  
She blinked, then beamed. "Yay!"  
  
They set off for the ticket line, but Quatre wasn't half as calm as he was acting. Actually, he was ready to bust an artery from fear. //I can't believe I'm really doing this,// he thought, exasperatedly. //Can I really face him after all this time? How can I look him in the eye, knowing how much he hated me last time we were together—how can I look at him, knowing what I lost?//  
  
//Suck it up,// an ever-present bitter voice hissed at him. Every time he had any thoughts, there was always that one part of him that had to argue, no matter what. And here it was again, ready to be a bother. //You're being a drama queen. Do you PLAN to march up to him in there? Of course not. You're here to watch the show with Katie. There has to be four hundred people here anyway, so how would you expect to FIND Trowa, even if you looked?//  
  
Several good points. Still, his heart was a raging war as they approached the ticket booth. A part of him was desperate to see Trowa again—to look into his beautiful green eyes and just be in his presence again...  
  
...And the other part of him wished for a rope to hang himself with.  
  
~  
  
Catherine peeked out at the stands, which were quickly being loaded and even overloaded as she watched. She beamed. "Packed house tonight, ladies and gentlemen!" she called back to the gathered performers. "Thank God we got a bigger tent and more bleachers last year, or else we'd have to start giving refunds for lack of seats!"  
  
"People can sit on the ground next time," Cassíme said, snidely.  
  
Isabella rolled her eyes. "And you can ride with the equipment to the next city."  
  
Precious hissed his agreement.  
  
The fire-eater stuck his tongue out in response. "Bitch."  
  
With a sigh, their ringmaster rolled her eyes, then quickly looked around. Her eyes narrowed when she recognized the absence of their headliner. "Where is Trowa NOW?" she groaned.  
  
Before things could get too hectic, however, Vernon the illusionist marched up, carting the lost acrobat by his ponytail. Trowa looked hardly amused by this, but he wasn't about to try and fight the older man. Vernon was a bony middle-aged man, but he was also a very irritable one that had proven more than once that he could beat any man twice his size stupid. "Look what I found wandering around near the trucks, Catherine."  
  
Her right eye twitched in annoyance. "TROWA..."  
  
"I was just walking, what did I do THIS time that's so evil?"  
  
She stomped up and Vernon pulled a quick vanishing act, taking off into the background and out of the line-of-fire. With an irritated scowl, she grabbed his shoulder, yanking him down. "You remember what I said about you sulking? We HAVE pink paint, you know, and I'm sure every lady in the house wouldn't mind seeing your scrawny ass out there in nothing but that, you hear me?"  
  
A very visible mean-streak bolted through her baby brother. "You wouldn't dare."  
  
"*TRY* ME, LITTLE BOY!" she exploded. "You have almost lost us our audience several times with your stupid moping and lack of dedication, and no matter how much I love you, you WILL straighten up or ELSE!"  
  
Everyone else quickly found somewhere else to be in the tent's backstage area.  
  
"We have been over this and over this and over this again, and I mean it, if you don't quit, I'm going to do something drastic! We took on this partnership because we both loved this business, but now you're so caught up in pitying yourself that you can't see past the image of Quatre Raberba Winner you have balancing on your nose! If you're going to be this way then pack up and get the hell out! I've had my fill of your lasting case of male PMS, so take some Midol, get your shit together and be ready to perform! If you've lost all your love of the stage, then you will either perform miserably, get over it or find somewhere else to be!"  
  
By the end of the short reprimanding, Trowa looked quite thoroughly wounded, as had been her indirect intent. He had nothing to say in response.  
  
Before Catherine could lose any more of her composure, a blonde teenage girl came skidding onto the scene, coming to a halt between brother and sister and drawing both sets of eyes. "Miss Bloom, Miss Bloom!"  
  
"Yes, Irene, what is it?"  
  
The panicked girl rushed to her side, whispering shakily in her ear. "H- he's here!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"He's here! It's really him!"  
  
She blinked. "Irene, elaborate a little."  
  
The girl took a moment to glance back at Trowa before she continued, her voice shaking with excitement. "Blonde hair, pretty sea-blue eyes, really pale, really, REALLY hot! I saw his picture in the newspaper!"  
  
Catherine's eyes widened. //QUATRE?!// "How do you know?"  
  
"I just sold him a ticket! He's here with a little girl and two other cute guys! Top row, fifth seat in to the left of the door!"  
  
Amazed, the ringmaster hurried to the nearest opening in the curtain and peeked out. After scanning the top-most row for a few moments, her eyes caught on a blonde man that looked vaguely familiar. She blinked, then blinked again. //Is that--? He looks so different! It might not be him...he's so thin, but then again, he IS the stressed-out Winner heir—or was...hmm. No, that's Katie up there, all right, and Duo and Heero! It IS him!// With that established, she looked at the hyper ticket-girl, quickly calming herself so as not to alert her wary younger brother. "All right, thank you, Irene. I'll handle that."  
  
"OKAY!" Grinning hugely, the cute, chubby teenager rushed off to go spread the word—under Trowa's nose, of course.  
  
He raised a suspicious eyebrow. "What was that?"  
  
"Oh, just some random Irene stuff. You know that girl. She saw news cameras, and she thinks she spotted that NAASA guy Mr. Andrews out there. Might be good publicity." Beaming, Catherine sighed. //I can't believe it—this is our chance!// "Ahem, all that I just said? Forget it. Consider it nonexistent. Just warm up and be ready for your call, okay?"  
  
That normally would have set him on guard, but he was so thrown by her change of attitude that he missed it completely. His soldier training failed him at the perfect moment. "..."  
  
"Okay then! I'm off! Warm up, and try not to fall off the trapeze, eh? Don't want to be a sole-proprietor here—too much work." She grabbed her top- hat and her glittery microphone, then took off as her cue-music started. "See ya, Trowa! Knock 'em dead!"  
  
"Um...wha--?"  
  
She was already on her way to the center ring before he could even argue. As the colored spotlight slammed down on her and the stands exploded with cheers, she couldn't help but grin so wide her face might've split. Never had her beginning crowd-shaker lines been cried with more zeal than they were that night. "Ladies and gentlemen, reporters and activists, business men and children of all ages! Welcome to the night performance of the Trinity Circus, the oldest three-ring show in the universe! Tonight, we have a whole new show for you, for as with everything, we have two sides, and this is one you'll never forget! We will dazzle you with the mystery and magic that is the soul of the Trinity, and this night, anything can happen--and it will! You have left your dreary reality behind, so come and take my hand as I lead you to your destiny, into a place where heartbreak and healing go hand in hand, where confusion makes perfect sense and even the blind are made to see—into the mystic and wonderful world of the circus!" She spotted Quatre at the top of the stands, visibly surprised by all the effects and her cries, while his companions laughed and cheered with everyone else. Giving a soft laugh, with laser-fireworks shooting through the air, glitter-cannons, sound effects and music exploding all around her, she cried with all her might: "LET THE SHOW BEGIN!"  
  
~  
  
//Whatever my sister is up to, I will get her for it,// Trowa thought bitterly as he worked through his warm-up routine. The last thing he needed was another mental distraction. He had enough of those, and he really wasn't looking forward to a repeat of this afternoon. The tightrope was one thing—he was one with it, and he trusted it, so he was always sure of himself there—but tonight he wasn't working with that. He was challenging his family's oldest tool...the trapeze.  
  
Trowa had worked with it before, but never without a net. He, the great acrobat, had been known for falling from it. Had Catherine not been so persistent about the use of a net, he would have been dead long ago, thanks to his own pride. He was fine when he knew a mess-up wouldn't mean a painful death in the dirt, but if he had another lapse in control tonight, not only would he die, but the circus would be shut down for bad publicity and lack of interest. (Who wanted to go to a circus and watch the most talented acrobat kill himself?) That would put the two-dozen performers and thirty or so stage-hands out of work, and it would ruin the Bloom family name forever. He was angry with her, but he wasn't that psychotic.  
  
Taking a deep breath, the young circus-manager cracked his knuckles for the fifth time, then finished dressing and began going over his act mentally, checking and double-checking his ability to perform every move. He felt good enough, considering how 'well' the day had been going so far. //I can do this,// he thought, assertively. //I can. I've been through it a hundred times. I just have to concentrate.//  
  
And therein lie the problem. Every time he tried, his mind went somewhere else. Act preps—Catherine's strange reverse-scolding.  
  
He sighed, sitting down, then set a hand on either side of his head and shut his eyes. //No. Stop that. Okay, just focus—you're trained for this in more than one way, just concentrate on it!// He began going over the transition from slow to faster movements around the second quarter of the show, when suddenly—//How pitiful would it make me look to have them put up the net? Quite thoroughly pitiful, but would it be better to look scared and survive or look brave and—wait!// He smacked a hand to his forehead. //Damn it!//  
  
Nope, the mind wasn't in it today.  
  
Standing, Trowa went to the curtain and looked carefully out, up into the rigging high above. //If I don't focus, I will kill myself out there...then again,// he thought, grimly, //What have I got to live for?//  
  
The answer that came to mind startled him.  
  
/'Hi, I'm Katie!'/  
  
He blinked. //Katie? Duo and Heero are bringing her back tonight, aren't they?// He marveled at how exciting that was in his mind. //What's wrong with me? Why do I keep getting off subject—and her...//  
  
//Because you love that little girl,// a voice said, reasonably. His reason was always the last thing he wanted to hear from when he was stressed. (That was the only time it was a separate part of his mind altogether.) //It's quite simple.//  
  
//I don't even know her.//  
  
//You hardly knew Quatre when you met him, and yet look at you now.//  
  
He scowled, shaking his head, violently, as if to dislodge the irritating voice. //Don't bring him into this. He has nothing to do with it.//  
  
//Oh? And exactly WHO is responsible for her birth, hmm?//  
  
"Quit it," he muttered, softly, to himself.  
  
//You're only angry because you're caught between two moving stones, ready to be crushed. On one hand, you hate that she exists because she might not have, had you owned the courage to tell Quatre how you felt about him before Dorothy Catalonia got him. On the other, you adore that child, and you would probably die to protect her. Either your heart is very weak or something is trying to tell you she's important.//  
  
"Of COURSE she's important, she's the Winner heiress—"  
  
//Important to YOU, and you know what I meant,// his reason spat. //You haven't any trouble concentrating—you're just a coward, that's all. Afraid of a little girl and the thought of facing all that she stands for and who she could bring into your very grasp.//  
  
"I would never use her as bait to reach Quatre. That's disgusting."  
  
//Once again, you understand and yet twist the meaning. What a fool. You know very well how I mean, but no use arguing with you. After all, you're just talking to yourself again.//  
  
"Shut up." He paused, then hit his head on a nearby packing crate. "Damn it."  
  
//Dwelling hardly makes it better, but dying won't either, and you know I'm right. Or you're right. Hn. Back to work—even if you are a coward, you won't live to see another front-page story on Quatre if you aren't ready for the show.//  
  
Trowa growled. Shoving himself away from the curtains, he began practicing zealously, flipping and cart-wheeling and maneuvering around equipment at such a speed that he feared slowing would result in serious injury. He was determined not to let his idle mind and foolish heart threaten another show or ruin another act. //This time, I will show them why I am the King of the High Wire.//  
  
**** ~  
  
"Dada! Dada! Isn't this neato?"  
  
Quatre nodded his silent agreement. It was indeed very interesting. He hadn't been to a circus for a very long time, and this one had been revamped into a technical wonder, though their tricks and acts were (for the most part) genuine. The last performer, a magician, had sawed a woman in half, and cheesy though it sounded, he had never seen the old trick done. He'd almost been fooled by it. All in all, this little outing had been pretty fun, but it was getting late, and he was starting to wonder how long it would run. Not that he was bored, but he had a lot of paperwork to catch up on, and it was well past Katie's bedtime.  
  
Catherine Bloom appeared in the center ring once more, grinning jovially, and Quatre marveled at how, despite her clothes and makeup, she was just the way he remembered her from all that time ago. "And now, friends, the moment you have been waiting for has arrived!" she called. Her smile disappeared and her voice dropped low, and the lights turned blue, the music shifting to dreary piano playing. "Sadly, this means the end of our show..."  
  
A roaring 'aww' rang out around the tent.  
  
Shoulders rounded, Catherine removed her top hat and nodded. "Indeed, this will be the last performance of the night, and then you all get to toddle back to reality...but, as we say in our circles...if we're going out, we'll go out with a bang!" A cannon fired, startling half the crowd (the adults of their quartet included) and showering many of them in confetti, but Katie just giggled and clapped as the lights suddenly blazed through the air in prismatic colors.  
  
The music stopped, then began again in a mysterious-sounding percussion roar, backed by what was perhaps an Indian sitar, and the lights turned a dark green. At the very sight of the color, the crowd exploded into a thunder of applause and cheers.  
  
"Tonight, as you have seen, we have shown you all from the charming to the queer, from eerie to exciting, but you haven't seen it all until you've seen it here! May I direct your attention to the rigging high above you, where you will witness feats not seen for centuries in any corner of the universe! Be prepared to witness once in a lifetime performance by none other than the Prince of Acrobats—"  
  
Quatre's calm dissipated. //Oh my God.//  
  
"—World-class gymnastic champion—"  
  
//Is it--?!//  
  
"—And by far one of the most attractive men on the Earth Sphere—" A tide of female whistles and shouts echoed back to the ringmistress as she stepped from the center ring. "—That's right! Our headliner, the King of the High Wire, the green-eyed Latin dream himself, the one and only heir to the secrets of the Bloom-family flying trapeze, my younger brother...Triton Bloom!"  
  
The blaring music was like a dull buzz compared to the cries and the thunder of applause as Catherine took to the side, and the curtains parted, revealing a shadowy figure. A spotlight flew to the opening as the man within stepped out.  
  
Quatre felt his heart stop.  
  
There he stood...the center of all his dreams for the last five years. The bright light poured down over the broad-shouldered, tan-skinned figure of the boy he had known as a child--but he was no longer a boy. The comely boy he had fallen in love with had bloomed into an overtly handsome man, if the adjective could even begin to describe it. He had been amazed to see this...this god on television, but nothing could compare to the real thing, even from so high in the air as Quatre was sitting. His eyes drifted languishingly over the lean but muscular body, barely noting the black, silver-tiger-striped spandex pants that served as his only article of clothing, save his accessories and that ever-smiling mask. He'd pierced his left ear, let his hair grow out and gained half a foot in height, but he was still Trowa.  
  
It was really him.  
  
With no expression, without a sound, the godly form strode proudly to the center ring, where a single cable attached to a circlet awaited him. He snatched it from the air and, as the haunting and almost erotic music began, it immediately began to pull him into the air, sending a wave of gasps through the crowd. His body slowly turned in the air, the bright spotlight reflecting off his bare torso, and Quatre gulped as his eyes followed the rippling muscles of his belly and back from his shoulders to his belt. (However, he managed to keep his eyes above the latter, just barely.)  
  
Catherine Bloom's voice mulled in the background. "Remember folks, Triton is a trained professional, so never try this at home--or if you do, don't sue us when you get hurt."  
  
The lights shifted from white to a deep blue, then, as Trowa reached zenith above the rings, suspended by one hand. Once there, he glanced up, then swung his lower body up, hooking his feet in the small ring and letting go with his hand. The movement sent him twirling through the air, swinging like a pendulum high above the crowd. More gasps, and a few people stood to watch as he slipped one foot from the hoop, leaving himself to whirl, suspended by a single bare foot. The slightest mistake would send him plummeting to the ground below.  
  
His swinging form slowly came to a stop, dangling high in the air-- motionless--for a long moment. Then, the lights flickered from blue to an odd, deep indigo, and with them, Trowa's sleek body lit up in an almost radioactive green, intertwined with what looked like blue tribal patterns trailing down his tightly muscled abdomen. His beautiful face was much the same, the corner of his visible eye and the area along his cheekbones accented by fiery orange and his lips dyed pale gold. The ultraviolet light dyed his golden-brown hair black, and the silver tiger-slashes on his pants stood out brightly, serving to mark the position of his taut thighs, the silver bangles on his wrists doing much the same. The affect was both shocking and frightfully gorgeous.  
  
"Wow," Katie whispered at his side. (Quatre had almost forgotten about the other people around him. "That's pretty."  
  
Duo grinned, and it lit up in the dark care of the lighting. "Yeah, it is, isn't it, Quatre?"  
  
He nodded, numbly. "Y-yes..."  
  
Softly, he heard his best friend snicker, "Score!"  
  
An eerie, luminous fog had broken out across the floor, masking it from sight, and strobe lights ripped through the indigo air here and there, giving a creepy air to the ring. However, all attention was focused on the exotic acrobat hanging high above it. Trowa swung his torso and was sent shooting through the air again, and with amazing grace, he whirled in mid- air, actually coming free of the circlet for a split-second before mounting it with both feet, gripping the wire with one hand. The glowing figure soared above the stands, circling once more before leaping from his perch and coming to stand on a priorly-obscured platform.  
  
The crowd cried out as he landed in a graceful crouch, the circlet and wire flying out of sight. A massive sigh of relief swept through the audience as Trowa stood, revealing himself to be unharmed by the seemingly insane stunt.  
  
Quatre marveled in silent awe at how talented he had become. He had only seen part of one of Trowa's shows before, but he had been used as a subject for a knife-throwing act, not an acrobat. He had seen him perform some flips and even watched him walk a wire once while he was exercising on the Peace Million, a time that felt like a hundred years ago, but never had he seen anything like this. //He's amazing...// It was no wonder he owned this circus now. He really was a star.  
  
The slow, erotic music continued to cut through the silent air as the strobe lights revealed the area before the performer to be the flying trapeze, a very dangerous thing to challenge. Still, the green-eyed god continued, hardly pausing to crack his knuckles before launching himself forward, catching the suspended bar feet from him and swinging from it.  
  
Quatre gulped as he felt his heart's pace quicken. The trapeze was located closer to this side of the ring than the other, so he had a perfect front- row seat and view of Trowa's act. His eyes widened as they followed the pulling and tensing muscles throughout the act, flexing and shifting his body in such a way that the erotica behind it was unmistakable. Any child watching would miss it, but anyone past puberty couldn't even try to. The way his form shifted and turned as he flew through the air, passing from one bar to the next with a series of flips and pivots. As he swung past again, dangling upside-down from a bar and suspended by his muscular legs, the blonde aristocrat felt his face flush as his evil eyes darted the length of the illuminated acrobat's body, ending on his half-concealed face. He was so set in his concentration that it wasn't hard to assume he was blind to his audience--focused only on his craft, the art that his body and spirit wove. In fact, it was hard for Quatre himself to recognize the presence of his daughter on his arm, his friends at his side or the hundreds of people gathered to watch his secret obsession pour his soul into his performance.  
  
And the worst part...for the first time in his life, he tasted lust. His love for Trowa had never been carnal, never based on his looks, but rather metaphysical--he loved his soul, not his body, and he still did. As a child, he had seen Trowa as beautiful, yes, but never had a lecherous thought crossed his mind until this moment. They were no longer children, and accordingly, his innocent infatuation with the other boy...now, the other MAN...was innocent no more.  
  
The act closed, and Trowa took a brief bow as the roar of deafening applause drowned out all else, and as he left the spotlight, both he and the man who adored him were sweat-drenched.  
  
Duo, Heero and Katie had joined in the standing ovation that had blocked the Latin acrobat from his sight, and when it subsided, they all looked at him.  
  
"Dada! Dada!" Katie squealed. "Wasn't that neato? It was scary! He's REEEALLY good, huh?"  
  
Quatre noted with brief shock that he was short of breath. He cleared his dry throat, setting a hand to his pounding heart with a nod. "...Yes...I-I agree."  
  
"Hee hee!"  
  
The counselor and sergeant were eyeing him for the rest of the show, as Catherine Bloom closed and the congregation stood in mass to leave. As soon as the stands were for the most part clear, Heero took Katie into his arms, sending him a brief smirk before heading off down the stairs himself. His little niece busied herself with his sunglasses, bouncing elastically as she was carried away.  
  
Duo helped Quatre up, offering him a handkerchief without missing a beat. "Hot in here, isn't it?" he chuckled.  
  
The blonde was in such a stupor that he couldn't even retort. The images of Trowa's performance flashed through his mind, key positions and movements repeating indefinitely, and he blushed. He allowed himself to be led from the tent, then taken aside near the ticket booth.  
  
Duo held his shoulders and stared into his eyes, frowning deeply at the stupidity on his face. "Quatre," he said, softly. "Let's cut to the chase. You know you want to see Trowa again, and this is your perfect chance."  
  
"I can't--"  
  
"Bullshit, and you know it," the braided man sighed. He gave him a hard stare, almost pinning the back of his skull to the booth, but the sympathy there was unmistakable. "I'm not asking you to confess anything to him, but how long are you going to run away from him, and your feelings for him? How much more are you going to hurt yourself before you finally break down and die of this? Man, I've known you for a long time, and ever since the first time I saw you, standing at Trowa's side, I knew you belonged there, and that you wanted to be nowhere else in the world. Just talk to him--say hi, shake his hand, ask how he's been...do something...but don't hide anymore. For your sake if nothing else. Please. Before you lose your mind over it."  
  
Quatre might've argued, but he knew Duo was right. He had a habit of that-- he was always right when you really needed him to be. Besides, after seeing Trowa again, especially in such a way, something inside of him hadn't been very keen on winning. Sighing, he gave a small nod. "All right. I'll face him."  
  
"Atta boy." His friend patted his shoulder, then steered him to Heero, who was standing nearby with a very hyper Katie clutching his hand and sporting his sunglasses. "Hey Katiekins," Duo called. She looked at him, beaming. "You wanna go see Trowa?"  
  
The small child exploded with glee. "YEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAH!" She stopped, then, looking at her startled father. "CANWEDADAPLEEEEEEEEASE?!?!"  
  
He gave a tiny smile. "Sure."  
  
"YAAAAAAAAY!"  
  
Duo led the way across the buzzing circus grounds, which was abandoned in comparison to how it had been only minutes prior. About fifty people remained, milling about and talking to the random performers. Katie even stopped their progress to hug the snake charmer, who eyed Quatre himself with a big grin and commented on how sweet she was.  
  
They reached the back of the huge tent, which was drawn open, revealing several other performers milling about. They paused a bit away to watch them, talking with audience members, taking pictures and signing autographs.  
  
Trowa was with them, seated on a crate. A young teenage girl and a small dark-haired boy were his customers.  
  
As they approached, the girl ran off squealing and holding her cheek, and half the crowd heard her scream to her mother, "HE KISSED ME! HE KISSED ME! OH MY GODDDD!"  
  
Trowa chuckled, shaking his head, then addressed the little boy. "Hello there, young sir."  
  
The dark-haired boy, dressed in a straight-ironed black uniform, scooted shyly closer, then offered a poster of the man himself to him. "Could you sign this, please, Mr. Bloom?" he asked, quietly.  
  
Smiling beautifully, he nodded, taking it and pulling a silver pen from nearby. "Of course. Your name?"  
  
"Nara. Nara Ja'viry."  
  
"My, could you spell that?"  
  
"N-A-R-A, space--"  
  
The acrobat chuckled.  
  
Quatre marveled at the sight, his hand flying to his heart. //He's...smiling...and he laughed...//  
  
"There. I hope you enjoyed the show, Nara."  
  
"Oh yes, very much sir. Thank you." He gave a little bow, then turned to shuffle away.  
  
Katie's bottled energy, having been locked up too long, escaped her, and she squealed. "TWOWA!"  
  
His eyes darted up as the blonde child came barreling toward him, and he managed to kneel and catch her, his smile a very shy one. "Hello, Katie..." he sighed. "I wasn't sure you were coming..."  
  
"A' COURSE I comed!" she giggled, wrapping her arms around his broad neck and squeezing him tightly. "I sayed I was gonna!"  
  
Duo nudged her father from behind, surprising him. "Now or never," he whispered.  
  
The man blinked, then swallowed, hard. He took a moment to brush his hair back out of his face, fixing his clothes, then reluctantly stepped into sight. He coughed lightly, drawing the jade-green eyes of the circus-owner. "Hello Trowa," he forced, quietly, a small smile crossing his lips. He felt his face flush instantly at the amazement that exploded across the other's face. It was as if he'd just regressed eight years, to the day they'd first met.  
  
"Quatre..." He stood, inadvertently taking Katie with him. He realized the gesture and quickly set her down, folding his arms behind his back , his calculating eyes darting over the blonde's features. "I-I...y--" He paused, then blushed himself, shaking his head vigorously. "...Hey."  
  
"H-hi."  
  
"Now that THAT'S been settled," Duo muttered, breaking the quickly-forming silence. Heero smirked, giving him a small nudge.  
  
Quatre glanced back at them, then looked at Trowa, who offered a more Trowa- like half-smile in return for his stare. He smiled himself, still holding his chest and reveling in the warmth blooming just within. It was so nice to be in his presence again, even in this nervous silence.  
  
Katie, being ever the silence-killer, saved them from it with a small exclamation. "Hey! You look Chinese!"  
  
The dark-haired boy from before raised an eyebrow at her. "I AM Chinese." He was near her age, it seemed, though probably a little bit older. "Or, at least half."  
  
"Oh." The blonde girl beamed. "Then it makes a lotta sense, I guess!"  
  
Nara blinked at her. "You're strange."  
  
"Fanks!"  
  
Suddenly, a voice called out that scared all four of the prior Gundam pilots. "Naraka!"  
  
Nara's plain face broke into a grin. "I'm here, Jufu!" [1]  
  
A man appeared moments later, dressed casually in blue jeans, a black T- shirt and high-tops, his dark hair tucked behind his pierced ears and brushing his shoulders lightly as he approached to the boy and knelt to inspect him. Had his voice not been familiar, not one of them would have recognized him.  
  
Duo, of course, voiced their collective shock. "Wufei?!"  
  
The Chinese man glanced up, surprised only for a moment before he smirked. "Well, isn't THIS convenient. Hello, all."  
  
Nara blinked. "You know these people, Jufu?" he asked.  
  
He gave a small nod, patting his head. "Old friends of mine, Nara."  
  
"Oh. How odd!"  
  
"I agree."  
  
Quatre decided to press their side of the conversation, being that everyone else was too busy gawking to make an attempt. "Wufei...you look...different..."  
  
He smiled. "As do you, but I'll take that as a compliment."  
  
"It's sort of meant as one...but I mean it." He blinked. "You look REALLY different. I mean, I can't place it, but..."  
  
"It's called lack of guilt," Wufei sighed. "Such a thing can lighten a soul. I would be one to know."  
  
Trowa managed to get his tongue untied. "You have a son?" he asked.  
  
Wufei glanced at Nara, who blinked, owlishly. "Who, him? Why would you think that?"  
  
"Cause you're both Chinese!" Katie cried, the exclamation apparently making her feel superior. Then, she paused. "Right?"  
  
Nara sighed, shaking his head. "She's strange."  
  
"Call it unique, it's less rude."  
  
"She's unique, then."  
  
Katie beamed. "I'm uneek!" she exclaimed.  
  
Wufei smirked. "Well, she's awfully lively. I wonder where she gets it." He tapped Nara, who looked at him. "Take Katie and go show her your poster."  
  
The brown-eyed, dark-haired boy sighed, his shoulders heaving exaggeratedly. "Yes, sir. Come, strange-girl." He headed off.  
  
"'Kay! I'll be back!" With a quick grin to the five pilots, she followed the older boy away.  
  
There was a brief moment of silence, and then, Heero took his turn. He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms and approaching. Duo skipped after him. "So, where did you find that child if he isn't yours?"  
  
"He's the son of a close friend," the Chinese man answered, shrugging his shoulders, helplessly. "He wanted to see the circus, so I brought him."  
  
"FRIEND?" Duo asked. He nodded. The braided man frowned, suspiciously, but the frown dissolved and he almost literally leapt at the other man, startling them all. He snatched his left hand from his side, holding it up accusingly. "YOU'RE WEARING A RING!" he shrieked.  
  
"Hmm, well, that makes sense," Wufei said, pseudo-agreeably. "I'm engaged."  
  
They all gawked.  
  
"You're WHAT?!"  
  
"..."  
  
"...?"  
  
"That's great!" Quatre exclaimed. "Congratulations, Wufei!"  
  
He smiled, briefly. "Thank you."  
  
Duo was so dumbstruck that he actually couldn't speak. Heero patted his shoulder, supportively, and continued the investigation. "Nara is your fiancée's son, I would assume."  
  
"Of course. He's seven--I couldn't possibly be his father without your knowing. I was still a Gundam pilot when he was born."  
  
"Funny, he looks just like you."  
  
Wufei smirked. "That's because my betrothed's ex was Chinese too. He's half. It's a lucky fluke, I suppose."  
  
Duo regained his tongue. "What's her name?"  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
"Your fiancée, what's her name?"  
  
"...Dhimani." At the stupid look he received in return, he sighed. "Hindi, Duo. It's Eastern Indian--as in from India. Oh come on, Duo, you can't still be that dense."  
  
"Yes he can," Heero murmured. His husband glared at him.  
  
Wufei rolled his eyes, then glanced at his watch and sighed. "Well, this has been a nice visit, but I have to go locate Dhimani around here somewhere before we have to leave. We'll have to get together sometime before we leave town. I'll send Nara back with Katie when I find my other half--and by the way, Quatre, she's adorable." He smirked. "Though she sounds like Duo. She'll grow out of it, hopefully."  
  
"Y'know what, Chang? I didn't miss you so much that I won't punch you out in front of your wife and kid."  
  
"Feel free, Maxwell. Set a bad example for your niece."  
  
He scowled. "TEMPT me."  
  
With another smirk, Wufei saluted to them, then took his leave, disappearing the way he'd come.  
  
Duo scoffed, folding his arms. "He hasn't changed THAT much..." he muttered. Then, a lightbulb flickered in above his head and he grinned. "Hey, let's go watch his kid and Katie. Never can be too careful with boys. C'mon, Hee-chan!" He grabbed his lover's arm and dragged him off.  
  
Heero sighed. "You just want a look at his fiancée."  
  
"Shut UP, honey. See ya, guys! Have fun, ya hear?" With a flash of denim and chestnut hair, the two were gone.  
  
Quatre's face went red. //DAMN you, Duo!// he thought, exasperatedly. Leave it to him to ditch him with Trowa. What was he supposed to do now?  
  
The deep silence set in around them, threatening to suffocate the blonde aristocrat, but he refused to let it make him look stupid. He stood perfectly still, staring at his feet and chancing random glances at the other man, who seemed to be doing much the same, standing only feet away from him. Now that he was close to him again, and alone with him (the other performers had disappeared), he could feel the terror of Trowa's inevitable judgment clutching his heart, threatening to break it again. The object of his affections stood mere feet away, and even now, he was afraid to confess.  
  
Why?  
  
//Because you're a coward!// that bitter voice shrieked at him. //Coward! You're still nothing but a little boy inside, and it'll never change! This is why you can NEVER have him!//  
  
Suddenly, he felt the presence of the other's dark emerald eyes on him, and he lifted his gaze to meet them, only to be met with a calm expression--and a fiery stare. "Duo and Heero forced you here," he accused, softly, "Didn't they?"  
  
No use lying. It was too late for even that. Something inside of him didn't dare lie while that stare was cast upon him, though, as if doing so would reveal everything--and allow Trowa to destroy him. "They tricked me into it, yes," he admitted.  
  
Trowa's eyes narrowed. "I see." He had learned long ago to read the single calm tone of the other's voice, and a certain bitterness hung back under the surface, like a monster beneath a lake's smooth surface.  
  
Quatre realized at that moment how it sounded. He thought he hadn't wanted to come. And it was true...but he could never tell him that. "Trowa, I wanted to come see you. Really, I did."  
  
"Oh," he spat, his calm melting away to free the vicious beast it had been hiding. He folded his arms, stepping back a pace to leer at him. "Hmm. That's funny, you see, because I thought for a minute you were FORCED to come here. Wait, that's what you just said, is it not?"  
  
"Please, you're distorting it--it's not what you think."  
  
Suddenly, the acrobat was towering over him, his eyes ablaze though his face remained only minimally dour. He grabbed his shoulders, staring down into his own cerulean pools, down into the depths of his very soul, where he sat most vulnerable. "You should know better than that. I despise pretense and mind-games, so drop it. Why did you REALLY come here?"  
  
His voice had left him as the force of the other's stare bored holes in him. He wanted with all his heart to tell him, but the words wouldn't come.  
  
He watched in horror as something unstable, restrained by a mere thread, broke free in Trowa's eyes. He gave him a good shake, startling him. "Why are you HERE, Quatre?" he barked. "Answer me! Why did you want to come here?!"  
  
The blonde man's heart imploded with fear, but with that fear came a sudden vicious power, as had always been the case. Despite what many thought of him, when he was afraid, he became stronger, which was why he had always been a good fighter.  
  
/'...You're a coward!'/  
  
/'...How long are you gonna run away from him, and your feelings for him?'/  
  
His arms came up, breaking Trowa's grip on him, and he stepped back, anger fueled by his passion hardening his tone. "Because I can't run anymore!" he cried, the bottled-up pain in his soul freed by the confession. "I can't hide from you anymore. I can't do it!" He got so close to him that he could feel his ragged breaths against his face, and he was sure the other could feel his own, but the fear in him had faded away, leaving only the truth to be exposed. "I hate myself for what I did, for my marriage and my life, and because it hurt you, whether you'll admit to it or not. I've hated myself forever for hurting you."  
  
"Ha. I'm sure."  
  
"I HAVE," he hissed, vehemently. As he exchanged bitter glares with his obsession, he could think nothing but, //I love you.// The words were so close now, but still restrained. Finally, all his pent-up guilt and fear and anger had an outlet, and his logic had been left in the dust. //I hurt you...// "I never meant to, but I did," he growled, as if answering his own thought. //I've wanted you...wanted to tell you...// "I'm a coward. I know that. I've kept so much from you that I shouldn't have, and in turn, I hurt you badly, something that I've damned myself for everyday since it happened."  
  
Trowa's vicious eyes continued to scald him, but within, the beast was gone. Something else waited there, trapped behind the glass.  
  
//...I'm sorry.// "...And I am sorry, no matter how much it sounds like bullshit. Never, even in a rage, even when I was so angry or hurt by my feelings or your actions or my own actions, NEVER did I wish anything on you, especially not what I did to you." And then, with his soul's guilt freed, the forbidden truth seemed to float there for him. His anger died away, leaving him in a deadly calm, and his voice shuddered as he whispered, "...Trowa..."  
  
Their eyes met again, and no fury passed between them anymore. It was gone.  
  
"...I love you." And that was all. The moment he said it, it seemed so simple, no longer the lead weight in the pit of his stomach. Now, with the dam broken, it all flowed out. "I love you...I do, so much. I have forever. Please, don't be angry at me for it...I can't help it...I've fought it and embraced it and done everything I could, but it never changed. I just didn't want you to hate me, Trowa, but--"  
  
"Quatre."  
  
He bit down on his tongue to stop his desperate prattle, focusing on the green eyes hovering over him. //Don't hate me...// he begged, silently. //Please, please don't hate me...//  
  
Trowa searched his face blankly for a moment, then moved closer to him, bringing his own lips so close to Quatre's that even one heavy breath could join them. "I..." he began, the word brushing the blonde's mouth and making him blush, "...I could never hate you."  
  
His restraint snapped and their lips met, his arms coming up to drape across Trowa's broad shoulders. Their chests pressed against one another, and even through his clothing, Quatre could feel the other's heart hammering in sync with his own, maintaining a feverish pace that reflected his anxiety. He expected to be shoved away, but instead, Trowa's bare arms locked down across his lower back, pulling him closer still and holding him tight to his sculpted torso. The kiss lasted only a few moments, but the affect lasted even after both had pulled in opposite directions, gasping for breath.  
  
When the zero-three pilot managed to regain his wind, he looked at him, pacing back a step to look at him. "I hated what you did," he whispered. "I couldn't hate you, but I wanted to. You crushed me."  
  
"I know. I'm so sorry--"  
  
"Sorry doesn't fix that," Trowa persisted, softly, but there was no malice in his voice. Sapphire met jade once more, and something passed between them, telling the aristocrat that his love wanted nothing more than to trust him...but he couldn't. "You have to regain what I lost in you," he whispered. "My trust."  
  
"I'll do anything to get it back," Quatre said, desperately. "Anything."  
  
The thought visibly tempted the other, but he forced it away. "...I want to see you again. We have to talk. Privately."  
  
He nodded, vigorously. "Of course! W-we can meet somewhere. You can even choose it. Name the time and place and I'll be there."  
  
Trowa frowned, then opened his mouth again, but was interrupted by the arrival of Duo, Heero and Katie.  
  
"Hey, hate to break it up, but I got work in the morning." Duo shrugged. "We gotta go, Q. Like, now."  
  
"Can't it wait another five minutes?" Quatre sighed.  
  
The counselor looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, did we, uh, interrupt something?"  
  
Before he could say something, Trowa did instead. "If you need to go, I'll take Quatre home myself, Duo. Though I think Katie needs to go now--it's past someone's bedtime, I would think."  
  
A wise observation. The five-year-old was visibly drained, her eyes at half- mast and continually under attack by her hands, which rubbed them every few seconds. "I'm not sleepy," she sighed.  
  
Duo glanced at her, then blinked. "Yeah, she looks beat." He smiled, understandingly. "Okay then, Heero and I will take Katie him. You better catch up quick, though, lest your wife get nosy."  
  
Trowa's eyes narrowed at the mention of Dorothy, but he brushed it off.  
  
Quatre gave a nod. "I understand." He hugged his daughter, then passed her to Trowa, who gave her a small kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, honey."  
  
"I du'wanna go," she pouted.  
  
Trowa gave her to Duo. "If you don't sleep, you won't be able to play tomorrow. You won't have any energy."  
  
She pouted, but gave a small nod. She whispered something to him before her uncle took her away, and Quatre watched in confusion as the color drained from his face. "Bye, Dada," she called over Duo's shoulder.  
  
He waved, then watched as she and both uncles disappeared. Once it was safe, he turned back to Trowa. "Do we have time to talk now?" he asked, quietly.  
  
The brunette shook his head. "I have to warn Catherine, then I'll get my truck and take you home. You wouldn't want to leave Katie alone at your house at night, would you?"  
  
"Point taken," he sighed. As Trowa turned to go fetch his sister, however, Quatre steeled his nerves and caught his hand, making him pause. "Before you go find Catherine...could...could you...?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
His face flushed. "Uh..." //Oh, fuck it.// He tugged the taller man up to him, pulled him down and kissed him, reveling in the rush of pleasure that resulted. He felt himself quiver lightly as Trowa held him close for another few moments, then released him. "Thanks," he sighed, quietly smirking.  
  
"Uh-huh..." As if needing to escape, the acrobat took his leave to find his sister.  
  
~  
  
And as he left, two statements rang through his head, the ones that threatened to both make and ruin his night.  
  
/'I love you.'/  
  
/'Bye...Papa./  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued  
  
[1] Jufu is Chinese for 'stepfather'. (And as a side-note, the name Nara is short for Naraka, which is a Hindi name meaning 'Hell'. A similar Japanese name is Naraku.) 


End file.
